08/20/2025
I started all of this because of you.
Without you, my life and my work would never have looked the same.
My logo holds both you and Moose —
my life’s purpose, my heart, has always been built on the two of you.
I would spend the rest of eternity untangling your 26-foot leashes,
if it meant we could finish our bucket list of trails in Elysian and Griffith,
just like we promised we would.
My therapist says to spend time outside,
that nature heals wounds.
But how do I go anywhere we used to go together?
Anywhere we used to be together, I cannot be.
When you’re supposed to be here with us.
Whenever I’m asked to think of my happy place —
any time, anywhere, with anyone —
it’s always the same:
me, you, and Moose running in a park,
the sunlight spilling through the trees.
That was my purest joy.
No music, no words, just being.
With you, I learned presence.
I see you everywhere, in everything I do.
I can’t be outside, but I can’t be inside either.
Being home hurts the most— when it no longer feels like home without you. It’s empty, like my heart, like all the corners you used to occupy.
Your favorite spot on the couch,
the way you always loved resting your head on a pillow.
Your beds, still shaped just how you made them. I can’t get myself to rearrange them.
Your bowl, the one I always got excited to fill for every meal with foods of all colors, because you deserved to be fed the best and healthiest. That was the same bowl we filled on Sunday,
not knowing it would be your last.
Your crate, with the new bed we picked out for you only days ago. We knew you’d love that bed, and you did.
I’ll miss your crooked little snaggle tooth when we scratch the perfect spot on your butt, so much.
We’ll never hear your tail ring against the crate again,
or thump the floorboards when you heard us coming.
I can’t step foot onto the deck where you and Moose sunbathed
while I meditated each morning. It was the very part in our daily routine that turned me into a morning person.
We’ll never again see your wiggly silhouette behind the front door,
already woo-ing because you knew we had just gotten home.
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