I keep expecting you to be on your bed in the bedroom, or in John’s room, or somewhere. Anywhere. You were woven into our daily family routine and it feels lopsided now.

I want to take you out for a break tonight. I want to take you to the bus stop tomorrow. I want to hear you sing in the morning as we wave Nikki off to work with John.

Thirteen years of small moments added up to the best dog we could ever ask for. You were gentle, loving and good in a world that often isn’t.

I am so grateful you chose us. We told you we loved you every day. We told you that you were the best good boy in all the land. None of that feels like enough now.

I will miss you forever, Junior. More than I can put down on a page. More than I know what to do with.