Thirteen years ago when we went to the pound to look for a puppy, I never imagined taking a dog like you home. I was on the lookout for a golden retriever puppy because that was really all I could imagine at the time, and Mom was looking for an old lapdog that she could pamper. Dad was really just along for the ride. Then he found you. You were chasing your tail in this tiny cage stacked on top of other bigger, dirty cages. Dad laughed out loud, and ushered us over to look at you. Mom and I laughed, but we couldn't even tell what you looked like. Dad opened your cage to give us a better look, and you jumped out- straight into his arms, with your little paws wrapped around his neck. We knew that you were coming home with us. All because you picked us.
It's been a long time since that day, but everyday you've shown us love and compassion. You slept under my bed for a decade, and heard every conversation with boyfriends, saw every time I danced around my room, and sat with me every time I cried. You were my best friend for thirteen years. You're in almost every memory, and every home video. Remembering middle school, high school, and most of college will remind me of you.
This morning, I knew it would be our last one. Your eyes always showed so much, and this morning I knew you wanted to comfort everyone, even though you were the one in pain. You're a little giver, and I will miss you. I'm trying to not feel guilty, but it's hard when I think back to all the times where I could have taken you on another walk, or just sat with you a little bit longer. You had a good, long, happy life with us and I am thankful for that. I won't forget how intense you used to get when you really wanted our Chick-fil-A, or how you would run full speed to the door to bark at the mail lady, or how you used to go crazy after a tennis ball in a sock. Thanks for being the best dog a girl could have.