A Most Excellent Gentledog
February 2010 ~ December 12th, 2023

My beautiful boy, now you really are an angel!

And Zeebo, I can feel you watching over me. Our bond is still there, and I know you are someplace really good, now; more importantly, you feel completely healthy, too. And I will be there with you too in practically no time at all.

But still, this hurts so much right now, not being able to hold you close and push my face against your scruff to smell your precious Zeebo scent, oh it hurts: literally, physically, hurts - this is why it's called a broken heart - I always thought that was a metaphor, but, apparently no. It hurts in my heart. As if a jagged, brutal border collie x staffordshire bull terrier cutout was torn out of me. I know the wound will heal from so raw and glaringly, violently bleeding, to, become, eventually, a scar that I can bear.

My sweet dogson, my such a good boy, that you have been gone 2.5 entire months now astonishes me. It still somehow feels so present, right now. And simultaneously as if I've been suffering our separation nigh on forever.

You, Zeebo, are the reason that I recovered from addiction and stayed recovered, because you needed me to care for you. It wasn't easy, but it sure helped, (probably as much as subz,) that once there was you added to me, life no longer equaled pain. 🐕+🧚=❤️

You kept on inspiring me through all the therapy and striving til things absolutely improved; both things, and - me. That bit about being the person your dog thinks you are? The world thanks you for my improved outlook, as do I, oc.

On the very first night we met, sweet baby, I looked at you and loved you right there on the spot. I knew the one thing in the world that I wanted the most was, for the first time in a long-ass minute NOT a chemical: I just wanted you to be my dog(son).

And like your bowl proclaimed, my honey baby, "You had me at 'woof'."

I want you to know that the last 10 years of your 13 when we belonged to one another were the best and kindest of my life. You even let me know, the way you fell in love with your soon-to-be dad, that I was safe in trusting him into our lives. (Daddy misses you a lot, as I am sure you can tell, he is just outwardly coping with more calm than I, helping me through it even though he's hurting too.)

Thank you for it all, Zeebo. There are 2 main reasons I can keep shuffling forward rn: to honor the gift of hope and belief in goodness, and Light, that you helped me find in life once again. And knowing that you were happy til right before the end; you knew how very much you were loved.

I will heal enough, and be happy enough, again. We will adopt another rescue pup at that point. I will never, even for a day, forget you, and I will always love you so much even I don't have enough words to describe it. Because you are, and always will be, my Very Good Boy, my Zeebo.

...........

"Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole." - Rodger Caras

... And one day, as beautiful as all the rest, little boy - one day, that will seem soon enough to you, as you are frolicking happily, you will stop all of a sudden.

You will be very still for a moment, and then take off running as fast as you can over the perfect field, because you have sensed as you did in life, that I had come home to you.

You will race to me, and jump right up high and into my arms like you did when you were barely more than a pup. You, like me, will be young and healthy; you will lick my face over and over, and I will cry the only sort of tears possible in this place, those of overwhelming joy.

And as I pet your ruff over and over, (and behind the ears, of course,) I will thank God that I am here with Him and you: at last, here in Heaven.

And your wagging tail will thank Him, too!