I didn’t want you. In fact, Desi and the kids went behind my back and went back to Save-A-Pet later that week to check you out. But they wouldn’t talk to her about adoption until all the family members met you.

And that didn’t go so well. When we first met you peed on a cardboard box in the room we were waiting for you. I turned the Save-A-Pet rep and asked, “So what is the return policy on him?”

But when we got you home that snowy night you never had an accident. The one time at grandma’s you had not been let out while we went to the movie and I could see the shame in your eyes when you let go as I was putting my shoes on.

The kids adored you and greeted them when they came home from school – whether it was grade school, high school, college or just stopping by for a visit. Their friends would admire you and loved to pet your soft coat. While you would dutifully watch from the front windows for their arrival you would never bark.

You did well with Sassy and Topaz. Better with Sassy than Topaz. Probably because you scared the crap out Topaz that first morning after we brought you home. When she finally came home after being gone for a week, she gave you a wide berth. While she eventually accepted you, Sassy had no problem telling you what she thought of you.

As we got to know each other, we learned from each other. One morning going to church I put pre-packaged steaks out to thaw on the kitchen counter. When we came home they were gone and the pan was on the floor. We soon discovered one buried in the couch. Another buried in a chair, another buried in another chair and our bed. You put them all over the house. But we could not find one of them despite our searching. The following morning when the kids were eating breakfast, you brought your steak out to join them. We never knew where you had hidden that last steak.

And you never took anything off the counter again. Except for butter – what the hell was up with you and butter?

Desi took you to all your vet appointments so I understand why you didn’t want to go for car rides with her. But you were always happy when she brought your food home for you and filled your water bowl when it was down. She would always sneak you food from her plate and put down the saucepans for you to lick out. Or a part of her hamburger when we were going up north for the weekend. She would always make room for you in our bed, even if I was falling off the edge.

And while I didn’t want you – at first, you worked your way into my heart. The time we spent at the dog park so you could pretend you were wild and say hi to the other dogs. You would piss me off with your whining as we got close to the park. And embarrass me trying to hump the other dogs – until that one Shepard put you down with prejudice. We would spend evenings walking the streets of Lindenhurst, many times with Dave and Sky at our sides.

We would spend weekends up North hanging out all day at the Daments. And in the middle of the afternoon, while we would all be hanging at the fire pit, you would take off. As Phil said, you got some wild hair up your ass and took off into the woods. And I would have to chase you down. Why didn’t you come to me? And as I wandered around looking for you I would get a call or yell from the house – “Dakota’s back.” Goddammit, I swore the next time I would not go looking for you – but I always did. I didn’t want to lose you.

When you got cancer in your leg that sucked. I felt so bad for you. At first, you whimpered in pain from the surgery. It was a rough summer but after a few setbacks, you healed. By that winter you were back to yourself.

It was a couple of years ago when you could no longer get up on our bed. We would help you up in the evening but soon you made due sleeping on the rugs in our room. Tripping down the last couple of steps of the stairs became more frequent and you became more leary. When you fell down the steps one night we started blocking the stairs with a kitchen chair at night so you couldn’t come up. I felt terrible keeping you downstairs at night.

When you developed bedsores on your hips we tried to get you to sleep on the cushions we were placing all over the living room. I’m glad you started using them.

I started noticing your gait would change if we went too far on our walks. Last year was the first year I did not get you a pass to the dog park. I cut our walks down to zig-zagging in the neighborhood streets so we could go home when your back was hurting you. This spring you were struggling just going around the block. And you would trip. I’m sorry I laughed at first – I thought you had just tripped on something – but it became more frequent. Soon I would turn you around after you would trip. I know you wanted to keep going into the forest preserve but you were already going so slow on the way home. If we didn’t I would have had to carry you home. And I probably would have.

In the end, you struggled with the one step from the kitchen or the step to the outside patio. Your one sore just wouldn’t heal and I could tell it was bugging you. Your legs weren’t working well at all. You had started to eat better but you haven’t eaten much for the last couple of days.

I didn’t want you at first but now I don’t want you to leave. I know its selfish. You aren’t yourself. I know you struggle just getting up. I fear you are in pain – which is why I have to say goodbye. You haven’t woken me up to go out before the alarm for over a week now. Last night you whimpered on and off all night. Naomi came down to help but you couldn’t walk. We tried the next morning but you didn’t even want water. Noah came home to say goodbye. So did Nate. Stupid COVID, we couldn’t all be with you for that last hug.

While all pets have their own personalities, we can only reflect our own perspectives on them. We often said you were our blessing after Daisy. That’s really not fair to Daisy. Despite our best efforts, we gave up on her. You were effortless which made you so easy to love. And you reflected our love back to us.

I can close my eyes and still picture you racing through the tall grass at the dog park. The fear and disbelief when you picked up something out of a ditch that night on our walk. It was indeed a skunk. The unleashed snowy mornings shoveling the driveway and we both came in cold and snow-covered. The lazy afternoons at the firepit up north at the Daments’.

In the end, I see myself aging in you – the ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. The slower pace, the pain from the long walks. No more sleeping on the bed. You were getting older, too old. I do not want to be in pain when I go – so I could do no less for you.

So goodbye Dakota. Goodbye, my friend, my companion, my pack member, my scrounger, my beggar, my bedmate, my listener, my playmate, my explorer, my child and my ‘old man’. My love mirror. Thank you for reflecting our love back to us so well. I guess I didn’t realize how much I love you until I had to say goodbye.

I can finally admit to everyone, I guess I really did want you.