Friday nights had always been special in our house, but not because of fancy dinners or big parties. For us, it was Pizza Crust Friday — a silly little tradition started years ago by Chooch, our happy, tail-wagging best friend.
Chooch had a knack for knowing when pizza was on the menu. The moment the box hit the table, he’d trot over, eyes shining, tail swishing like a metronome. He didn’t care much for the toppings or gooey cheese — what Chooch lived for was the crust. He’d wait patiently at our feet until someone said, “Okay, buddy… it’s crust time.”
We’d all laugh as he crunched through each piece, savoring his victory. It wasn’t just about the treat — it was about the joy he brought to the table, the way he made something so small feel like a celebration.
Now, the table feels quieter. Chooch isn’t curled at our feet anymore, and the pizza crusts stay on the plate longer than they should. We miss that hopeful look in his eyes, the soft thump of his tail against the floor.
But tonight, as the warm smell of fresh pizza fills the air, we smile. Because even though Chooch isn’t here in the way he used to be, he’s still with us — in every laugh, in every shared slice, and in every crust we save in his honor.
We take turns placing a piece on a small plate in the center of the table, just like we used to. “For Chooch,” someone whispers, and we all nod. It’s bittersweet, but it’s love — the kind that never leaves, even when paws no longer pad across the kitchen floor.
So here’s to Chooch, to pizza crusts, and to the little traditions that keep our hearts warm. We hope your weekend is filled with the same joy he brought us — simple, shared, and full of love. ❤️🍕🔥
I can also make a more tender, memory-rich version with extra flashbacks to Chooch’s happiest pizza nights if you’d like. That would make it even more heartwarming.
