Hey baby boy. I lost you on July 22nd, 2024, to bladder cancer. I knew you weren’t well, pacing the house and having accidents. The doctor said you also had slight dementia, but when you looked at me with adoration (tail wagging) … You were still Black Jack. You were my first dog, my soulmate.
A howling beagle/jack russell mix. The dog who slept on my back when I napped on the couch. The dog who followed me everywhere, even when the dementia hit. I remember accidentally hurting you as a kid, crying desperately for you to come back from under the bed because I was so sorry. You did come back, and you let me cry into your fur and licked my face.
I love you more than anything in the world. In your last moments, I could barely speak, but you leaned on me. I wish I had you for more than thirteen years. I almost convinced myself you would live forever. I know you’re okay now though. You’re happy and running again. Sniffing everything in Heaven. God has you, and I trust Him to love you. I can never stop missing you.
Part of me wants to scream your name into the sky. The other part wonders if you are looking for me up there but can’t find me. I’m here, baby. I’m right here. I promise I’ll see you again, and we’ll be together forever.
From: Shyanne M.