It’s been a while now, but not a single day goes by without me thinking of you, Chooch. Man, I miss you a lot. There’s this quiet in the house that just doesn’t feel right. You used to fill every corner with your goofy charm, your big heart, and that unshakable loyalty. I swear, sometimes I still hear your paws padding down the hall or feel you nudging your head under my hand like you always did when you wanted some love. You were more than a dog—you were family, my best friend, my shadow.
I think back to those long walks we took, even in the pouring rain. You hated puddles but loved the mud—it never made sense, but that was just you. The way you’d chase your tail for no reason and then look at me like I was the crazy one. Or how you’d curl up next to me on the couch, eyes half-closed, always listening, always near. You had this way of understanding things I couldn’t even say out loud. You saw me through some of the hardest times in my life, and you never once judged. You were just there. Always.
Man, I miss ya, Choochie boy. I miss you when I come home and there’s no bark to greet me, no tail thumping against the door. I miss you when I drop food on the floor and realize there’s no one there to gobble it up. I miss the weight of you sleeping at the foot of the bed, the warmth of your fur, the smell of your ears—yeah, I even miss that weird doggy smell.
They say time heals all wounds, but some wounds just scar over. They stay with you. I carry you in my heart, Chooch. I see you in every dog I pass, but none of them are you. No one could ever be you.
I hope you’re running free now, chasing whatever your big dog heart desires—squirrels, sticks, maybe even tennis balls. I hope you’re surrounded by sunshine and belly rubs, and that you know how deeply loved you were—and still are.
Thanks for loving me the way you did. Thanks for being my Choochie boy. I’ll keep missing you, always. Until we meet again, buddy.
