The Story of a Puppy

Puppy wasn’t just a pet—she was the heart of our world. Kristen and I had her since we were in high school, and for sixteen unforgettable years, she was by our side for everything. From late nights doing computer work to days building our life together, Puppy was our constant, our comfort, and our joy. She grew up with us. She became part of us. 

She wasn’t exactly what you’d call a “people dog.” She didn’t like strangers much—honestly, she didn’t like most people. But she loved us completely, and that love was returned tenfold. What she lacked in friendliness toward others, she more than made up for in loyalty, trust, and an unshakable bond with the two of us. She was so well-behaved that it almost didn’t make sense. Even though she was obsessed with food (and I mean obsessed), we could leave a plate unattended right at nose level and know she wouldn’t touch it. She had the kind of discipline that didn’t need training—it came from love. She would eat nearly anything—except pasta. But if I had a pickle, she wanted a bite. Ice cream? Of course. Even the strangest snacks were fair game, and sharing food became one of our many little rituals.

When part of her tongue had to be removed due to cancer, she couldn’t drink water like she used to. So we made her shaved ice—fluffy, snow-like piles of frozen love. It became her new favorite treat, and in true Puppy fashion, she adapted without complaint. Year after year, she faced challenge after challenge. A torn ACL. Liver surgery. Dental issues. The cancer. But she always bounced back, never losing her spirit, her spark, or her perfect little personality.

We never wanted to be away from her, and she never wanted to be away from us. If we moved to a different room, she was right behind. If we had a lazy day, she curled up contentedly. If we were up running around and being loud, she was in the middle of it all, tail wagging. After a bath, she would go absolutely wild—zooming from room to room like a little tornado. Her happiness was electric, and it was impossible not to laugh. She was that rare kind of dog who matched any energy you gave her. She could be the perfect playmate or the quietest cuddle buddy.

She just wanted to be with us, and we wanted nothing more than to be with her. We wouldn't have changed a single thing about her—not one trait, not one quirk. Every second we had with Puppy was a gift. And even now, she continues to be the love of our lives. She may no longer be by our side in the way she once was, but she is with us in every memory, in every quiet moment, and in every decision we make to help animals in her honor.

Puppy made us better. And she always will.