He was Sam.
Boober. Boobie. Big man. Our little hobbit
He loved me in the most constant, uncomplicated way I’ve ever known.
We were supposed to get his brother, but he picked me. Came and sat right under me and then he was mine. He followed me everywhere, stole my socks, my underwear—anything that smelled like me. I used to laugh about it. It turns out, he just never wanted to be far from me. That’s what took him in the end, a Bob Ross sock that he couldn’t pass this time. And that part hurts in a way I don’t have words for.
But what stays is who he was—sweet, open, loving everyone he met, and always there when I needed him.
I didn’t just lose a dog. I lost my constant.