Some of you know, by reputation, personal experience, his Twitter feed, or my countless posts of his epically handsome face, my dog Theo. And some of you know he’d been battling cancer for the past year and a half. Four days ago, after his suffering became more clear and apparent, after trying for so long to keep him going, to keep him with us, we had to let him go.

We wanted more time for him, he was a happy dog, happy in his role of king of the pack (a benevolent, non-lording one), looking after us, enjoying our company, eating Chinese on Sunday nights, socializing with his many canine and human friends and loving extended family.

And of course we wanted more time for us. Because we could not love him more. Because I swear to you he was a few braincells shy of being able to tell me what he was thinking with human words. Because he was a great snuggler. Because his presence is so ensconced in our hearts, our bodies, we can’t imagine life without him.

But it was time. We realized it. And then it all went too fast. And now he’s gone. Physically gone. He’s here with me now in my heart and mind.

A lot of you know how much he means to us, I, after all, have shared a few hundred photos over the years and I felt like if I didn’t mention what’s gone on I’d have to break the news, and feel the pain anew, way too many times going forward. Though, who’s kidding who, thinking about him being gone is going to be terrible for the foreseeable.

Yes, he had neurosis. Understandable ones. Would you like being left in the car while I was pumping gas even if you could see me at all times and the windows were rolled down? You probably wouldn’t. No one likes the sound of a vacuum cleaner. Who doesn’t get a pang when realizing someone is leaving or entering your domain? Who doesn’t need to chew a stuffed caterpillar to shreds to get out the anxiety of our day to day trials?

The sorrow we feel with his absence has been deeper than I could have imagined. I realize that you can’t know what it’s like for something to be gone until it is. Until something has gone away there is no hole, no pit, no blankness that you used to fill with love and caring and joy, that now, perhaps in an effort to fill itself, sets its sights on swallowing you. It comes in waves and jolts. I never want to not hold him deep inside my heart but I do hope the tide will turn to mostly joyful missing, and less of the full on sobs in public places.

So that’s where we are. Missing his being, his presence, his cuddles, his caring, his face, his Superman Flattush, his barking at strangers who came to visit, sometimes grabbing their pant leg with his teeth, his only concern, besides treats and rubs, the protection of us, the integrity of the pack.

I thought looking at pictures of him would hurt, but it also brings great comfort. He is still here as long as I am. I can see him and feel him.

Theo, our love bun. Who we’ll be missing for the foreseeable.

Thank you to everyone who loved and appreciated him. Sorry to everyone whose pant leg he held on to with his teeth.

Love from me to you, and to my love up above.