Chooch was more than just a dog—he was my best friend, my shadow, my quiet comfort on the hardest days. We had our routines, our little jokes, and a bond that only those who’ve loved and lost a pet will truly understand. That’s why it feels so incredibly hard to accept that he slipped away when I wasn’t there.
I had always imagined I’d be holding his paw at the end, whispering how much I loved him as he drifted off peacefully. But that’s not how it happened. Chooch passed suddenly, quietly, without me by his side. At first, the guilt felt unbearable—like I had let him down in his final moment. But the more I sit with this pain, the more I wonder if he chose to go that way because he didn’t want me to see him in pain. Maybe, in his final act of love, he protected me from that memory.
Chooch had always been sensitive to my emotions. If I cried, he’d nudge my hand with his nose or curl up against me until I felt better. He could always sense when I was sad before I even knew it myself. Perhaps he knew that watching him suffer would break me in a way I couldn’t recover from.
Now, the house feels painfully quiet. His bed remains untouched. His favorite toy is still under the couch where he last left it. And yet, I feel him everywhere. In the warm sunlight coming through the window. In the soft wind that brushes my arm when I walk alone.
Chooch may be gone from this world, but he left a love so deep that it still wraps around me. And even though I didn’t get to say goodbye the way I wanted, I know—deep in my heart—that he left knowing he was loved. And he’ll carry that love with him always, just as I will carry him.
