I miss you so much already. I know you were too sick to kiss me goodbye, but I'm still glad you laid your chin down on my hand as you went to sleep for the last time. I'm keeping the shirt that you were wearing to keep you warm during your last few weeks, and I'll be keeping your leash and collar, too.

I tried to approach this rationally, and I told you that if reincarnation was possible, then go on to your next life, but if we can, I'd love to meet you again on the Rainbow Bridge.

I met you the day before I turned 12, as a birthday present. I remember that you walked across the table and came right up to me. I'm 24 now. I've had you over half my life, and most of the life that I can remember. You loved going to the vet, and you loved to greet and play with people. Even when you got sick, you'd give kisses and wag your tail.

I'm crying so hard right now. It's been less than two hours since you've been gone, since I said goodbye to you for the last time. You were the best dog that I could've hoped for. Even though you were a rescued dog that came from an abusive life, you were still always friendly and never mean. You loved kids and adults alike. You were so tolerant of those kids. You even loved to play with most other dogs, as long as you were the one in charge. Even though you were a Cairn Terrier (who looked a lot like Toto), you thought you were so big. I always used to say, "Seven feet tall! On all fours!"

You totally hit the jackpot, too. Even though we only got you in 1996, we'd like to think we made up for your first year with all the special treatment we gave you. You were better fed than I was, and I was fine with that! You loved your brisket and lamb chops.

God, I miss you so much. I know I talked to you about getting other dogs in the future, and you licked my hand to show that you didn't mind. I wish there had been a way to keep you young and healthy, but dogs age so quickly. It's such an injustice that dogs don't live as long as their owners.

As I get to this point, it's been about two hours since you've been gone. I said as much as I could to you both before and after they put you to sleep. I know there's still so much that I haven't said, whether I just can't say it or haven't thought of it. I'm sure this letter's totally disorganized due to my frame of reference.

I always thought you'd make it until I was 25, since the first day I got you. I was wrong by about six months, but I'm glad you're not suffering anymore. If I can, I'll see you on the Rainbow Bridge, and we'll play and cuddle and run around together.

Sleep well, Happy. I hope you're having a great time, wherever you are.

Love always,

Adam

Happy Joy Bruno (?/?/1995-12/22/2008)