They say that you don’t pick a dog, that they pick you. When I sat cross-legged on the floor in a room full of puppies and you jumped into my lap, I knew you were the one. It was a gray winter day when I wrapped all 3 pounds of you in a pink blanket and drove you home. It was also the first day of falling in love with my sweet brown-eyed girl. Our journey began, through good days and bad, but always ending with you curled asleep on my legs at night. When the day came after much pleading with the universe to stop time for just a little while, I wrapped you in your pink blanket and had to say goodbye. Now I look at my favorite picture of you, running with one paw slightly lifted. There will always be a hole in my heart, for the piece that you took, that only you could have carved out.