It’s hard to put into words just how much I miss him. Every little routine, every small moment that once felt so ordinary, now carries the weight of his absence. King Chooch wasn’t just a dog — he was my best friend, my shadow, my heartbeat on four legs. We went through everything together, side by side, paw in hand.
If I could have just one more walk around the neighborhood with him, I would cherish every second. I’d walk a little slower, let him sniff every tree, every bush, every mailbox. I wouldn’t rush him or tug on the leash. I’d let him lead the way — like he always wanted to. I’d take time to watch the way his tail wagged, the way his ears perked up when he heard kids playing or birds chirping. I’d soak it all in, knowing now just how quickly those moments become memories.
The walks were our special time. Rain or shine, morning or evening, that leash and collar meant adventure. And to him, even the smallest route felt like a royal tour. He really was King Chooch. Neighbors knew him, dogs respected him, and kids adored him. There was something about his presence — calm but confident, goofy yet gentle. I still sometimes catch myself looking at the leash hanging by the door or hearing phantom footsteps on the hardwood floors.
Grief has a way of sneaking up on you in the quiet moments. But the love he gave — that remains. I carry it with me every day.
If you’re lucky enough to still have your dog, please — don’t take the time for granted. Go for that extra walk. Let them stop and sniff a little longer. Give them that treat. Sit with them, talk to them, hug them a little tighter. Because one day, you’ll wish you had just one more day. One more walk.
I’d give anything for that walk with Chooch. Until we meet again, my king.
