In Loving Memory

Thank you for fifteen years of devotion and gentle strength. You will always be loved, always be missed, and always be mine.

Winston was our bestest best friend! He was the sweetest, most loving, and snuggliest boy. From doing his “pug stuff” to wearing his “pug jeans”, he was a constant character and the best first dog anyone could ever have!

18 years of being unconditionally loved by you. Thank you for those beautiful years.

Katara, you were family and we will find it hard to navigate this life without you. You came home with us on Halloween in 2011 during a huge snowstorm that shut the city down. You loved playing in the snow, squeaky toys, snuggles, and chewing up countless socks that always found their way back to us later. You accepted and gave love in your own way. You loved walks, bike rides, basking in the sun, being held by Dad, pizza crust, “talking” to us when you wanted attention, people visitors and puppy friends. Your bright blue eyes were everyone’s favorite and people would pull over just say how beautiful you were. You were with us through three homes, the births of two younger brothers whose sides you never wanted to leave, and a lifetime worth of memories. You never wanted to slow down and even until your last days, tried to keep going until you couldn’t anymore. You could never be forgotten and will always hold the biggest place in our hearts. Thank you for choosing us for over 15 years. We will meet again some day!

My little warrior. You fought so hard for so long, and now you are free. Run wild on four strong legs again, my baby girl. I will love you forever. 💙

Roxie was the sunshine of my life. While we were preparing for our tenth year together, I was getting her ready for a dental cleaning , where they discovered she had progressive anemia through the bloodwork prep. On Aug. 26th, I rushed her to the hospital where she stayed overnight. On Aug. 27th, I was told she likely had hemangiosarcoma and it had spread from her abdomen to her lungs. It had advanced beyond treatment and there was nothing I could do to help her. I brought my baby home that day, and we lived life to the fullest the best we could. I had her out in the sunshine every day, took her for walks in her stroller, laid in the grass together and I carried her every step of the way. I even carried her down to a creek to wet her paws. She only ate steaks and rotisserie chicken, which were her favorite. Unfortunately, because the cancer had obstructed her diaphragm, her breathing became labored and distressed, she was having trouble walking and she was losing blood from the bleeding masses inside her. I made the difficult decision to help her cross over during our first appointment with Lap of Love on Aug. 31. It was the only way I could help my baby at that point. I sang songs to her and cradled her in my arms until she went to sleep. She looked peaceful and happy when she passed, and I knew in my heart that she was ok after that. Her dental appointment would’ve been on Sept. 1. She never made it to that appointment. I was so confident she had more years, as she had been the epitome of athleticism and vitality for most of her life. I was going to take her on a NYC/NJ trip for our tenth gotcha anniversary in October. I told her we were just getting started. I believe she is just getting started on our new adventurous life together, but I have to wait awhile to join her. My baby, my partner, my best friend and my fiercest protector. Everyone commented on how beautiful she was, but she was also very aware, intelligent, confident and the sweetest, most loving girl there was. She was quirky and happy and smiled constantly. She truly was the love of my life.

Grief teaches you
 how rare it is
 to be exactly here. Beneath this sky.
 In this body.
 In this little piece of time
 with this particular being another species,
 and somehow
 one of the greatest loves
of my life. A soul that feels
 as if it was carved
from the same place as mine. Of all the histories of time,
 of all the lives that have ever been lived,
 of all the bodies that have ever moved
 beneath this enormous sky I was here. Now. With my Remy Dog. And somehow, I got to live this little piece of life with him. Sixteen years. Sixteen years of a love so immense that some days it felt like it might burst inside my chest. And maybe I have been grieving him since the day we met, because somewhere inside me I knew what love asks of us: to love something completely
 while knowing
we cannot keep it. I just didn't know how much of me would be going with him. And now, alongside the grief
 that sometimes feels too big
for my body to hold,
 there is something else love. So much love. And beneath that,
gratitude. For the soul who came to teach me not only how to love,
 but how to be present. To stay in the moment instead of rushing toward the next one. To understand that an ordinary day is never ordinary when you are paying attention. To live as if today
might be the last not with fear,
but with wonder. Look at the sky. Feel the sun. Take the walk. Stay a little longer. Love without saving any for later. Perhaps that is what Remy gave me all along: the knowing that nothing lasts forever,
 and the invitation to love it anyway. To love so completely that even the grief becomes sacred. So, my Remy Dog,
 I will grieve you because I loved you.
 I will miss you because you filled every space. And I will carry this enormous ache
 as evidence of the enormous love
 we were lucky enough to have. You taught me how to be here. And for sixteen beautiful years, you were here with me. Of all the moments
 in all the histories of time I got this one. I got you. And my precious, wild, quirky boy, that was more than enough for one lifetime. On Saturday,
we’ll say goodbye to you. But I know in my heart this is not where our story ends. Our great love story will never end.

I was truly Blessed to have Sofia in our life.

Duke will be remembered with his love for swimming. Greenies and playing with his favorite kong.

Have a joyful journey across the rainbow bridge, our beloved Tip!