Dear Best Friend,

It's been eight months since you passed away. It's crazy that I still miss you, right? I mean, a lot of people might laugh at this letter to you and brush you off as "just a dog." But you were more than that. You were one of my best friends for the few short years that you were able to live.

I still remember the night you came into my life. Mom found you in a ditch not too far from us. Her and dad kept telling me "Don't get too attached. He might belong to someone else." Well, you didn't. No one would claim you, and it turned out there were other dogs ditched just like you. So you became mine.

When you became mine, it wasn't always easy, though you were a great dog. You mostly just laid there, being lazy just like your momma. Don't get me wrong, you did get into trouble every now and then. Like the time you kept chewing up the cushions on the patio chairs. Or when you ruined the screen to the back door. Or even that time you ruined the carpet. And everytime you got into trouble, I got into trouble.

Sometimes, I still dream that you're laying next to me in bed, even though mom despised that. You really could shed a lot of fur at times. You always wanted to cuddle. And no one could resist you when you would offer up those irresistible eyes. Or when you would give up your paw for someone to hold it. You are the reason I will always want another big dog, though the next one will never be you.

I also think about the day you died. When mom called me before I headed to work, I felt broken. Again, I know, "he's just a dog." But it took months for me to finally not expect to see my best friend running out to greet me as I pulled into the drive way. Or trying to get into my car to leave with me. Or just following me around wherever I went, even trying to get into the bathroom.

Your death made me sad for a very long time. I can't lie about that. All I know now is that I have a lot of great memories with a very great dog. I hope you're enjoying dog-heaven and being lazy all day long. I hope you're getting all of the table scraps that your little heart desires.