Mi precioso Ranger,

You resembled a little bear when we first got you at two months old.

February 3, 2013.

I sat in the back with you on the car ride home. You were surprisingly calm but maybe only because the air conditioning was blowing right in your face. You seemed to enjoy it. You came into the house and just started walking everywhere, exploring each room. My shoe was the first show you grabbed that day. What a wild dog already!

You just laid down on the floor for the rest of the night, probably nervous and sad that you weren't with your brother and sister anymore. You didn't let us sleep the first few nights because you would occasionally whimper in the dark. Again, nervous and sad. It only took about two or three nights for you to stop. You officially trusted us and gave us all that love and playfulness.

I remember when you started digging holes. It was quick to get that habit out of you. It was not quick, however, to stop you from keeping rocks in your mouth for no reason. I knew it was suspicious when you had your mouth closed and avoided eye contact. What comfort did those rocks bring you?

I also remember when you started teething. Oh my gosh, you chewed on everything: the couch, the living room table, the dinner table, the remote control. Your toys didn't help it, sadly. I even gave you an old shirt to entertain yourself with and you just took your time ripping that up, having your own fun.

The first time we took you to a picnic, we stayed in the park for hours. We got home, you drank two bowls of water, and you knocked out. You woke up for dinner. Then, you knocked out again.

You shed a lot of hair. Did you know that? That's the consequence of a German Shepherd, but the upside always outweighs that. You're very soft and cuddly, and you're also an attention seeker so you get to be pet all the time.

Brushing you outside makes it look like there's snowflakes falling, as my dad says.

There's too many memories with you.

I will never forget those crazy puppy years. It's like you just did not run out of energy. I'd hear you in the middle of the night with those little paws roaming around the house to explore.

Now you are 7 years old, turning 8 on November 25. You're not slow. But you are getting slower. I see it. You get tired more quickly. You're still a playful furball, but that time is running out. I hate realizing that.

I know that one day that's going to stop, and you'll just be too tired and lazy, and now I can barely see what I'm writing for you. Great. My heart starts clenching when I think like this.

I can't remember what my life was like before we got you. What did I do? I just didn't have someone to greet me at the door when I got home? It's so strange to think back like that. You can't read this, but I can. I know that you have all that love filled inside you the way we do for you. I hope we've done amazing jobs as dog owners and we will continue to do so for you.

I know that we still have time. I know it. You're not that old or slow. You're still very active, but I can't let myself forget anything there is about you, my first dog. I wrote this for you, and it doesn't describe even 1% of my life with you. We still have many more years for many more memories.

You made this family so much happier. You're not just a dog that got brought into the family. You are family; a family member. You are also a best friend.

(I see that you love the new bed we bought you yesterday!)

I love you, Ranger.