Babette came into our lives when she was just eight weeks old, small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. She looked like a little beige rat, but the moment she saw Ayden in the backseat of the car, her tail wagged with certainty. In that instant, we knew she was ours — and we were hers.
She grew up alongside my children, watching over them from their toddler years into adulthood. Though she was small, Babette carried herself like a guardian. She loved her kids fiercely. She slept beside them, followed them, and made sure they were never alone. She chose us, and she protected us in her quiet, steady way.
Babette had a big personality inside her little body. She loved warmth — fireplaces, heating vents, sunspots, blankets, and any cozy place she could claim. She loved food with unmatched enthusiasm, famously inhaling her meals and once swallowing a festival hot dog (that she stole) in just a few heroic gulps. She adored her stuffed chipmunk, loving it tenderly before finally tearing it apart — only to be gifted the same toy again and again.
She was gentle and patient, never nippy, never loud, always kind. She didn’t mind getting wet or dirty. She accepted medicine without fuss. She cooed with excitement, her joyful sound stirring up every dog in the room. She rested with her tongue peeking out, her bright eyes watching everything, her big ears alert to the life around her. She was always noticed, always complimented, always loved.
As she grew older, Babette slowed down but never lost her spirit. She preferred warmth and closeness over toys, companionship over activity. On summer walks, when her little legs grew tired, my husband would carry her home, and she would ride proudly, smiling and panting, content simply to be with her family.
Even in her final chapter, Babette continued to give. When Harlie joined our home, Babette became a teacher. Though she didn’t always appreciate puppy energy, she showed Harlie the important things — where to go potty, how to walk beside her people, how to be part of this family. She passed on her wisdom the way she lived her life: quietly, faithfully, with love.
Her last day was filled with the same devotion she had always given us. Surrounded by all of her people — her kids, my husband and myself — she found the strength to wag her tail one more time. Letting her go was the hardest choice we have ever made, but it was made with love, to ease her pain and give her peace. She was held by the family she had watched over for fifteen years. She was not alone. She was loved until her final breath.
Babette, we wish we could hold you again and kiss your little head. We hope you know how deeply you were loved, how much you meant to each of us, and how grateful we are that you chose us. Thank you for watching over my children. Thank you for your warmth, your loyalty, your joy, and your steady heart.
You were the best little dog there ever was.
You will always be part of this family.
You will never be forgotten.
Rest in warmth, sweet Babette.