I remember the stuffed monster I bought you,
and how you wouldn't let anyone take it away.
I was flattered I found you the most favored gift.
I remember when you herded my brother's friends.
Unruly lot they were. Wouldn't stay in flock-like formation.
It's hard being a herd dog with nothing to herd.
You and my brother competed for dominance.
That was always funny. Til you pooped in his bed.
He didn't think that was funny.
You chased my daughter when she was a toddler.
Nipping at that diaper, faster faster. She thought you were mean.
I had to agree.
But you loved everyone, and you loved to play.
You thought you were something, some dog king. I mean, your own chair?
Really, you were just spoiled.
So 15 years you had.
My mother loved you most of all. You were her dog.
And now you're gone.
I wonder, are you where Jessie is?
If you are, is she finally catching birds?
Did she get over her fear of water?
Are you with Holmes, my puppy.
Never got to be a dog.
Is he finally able to play with children?
I know you just got there, but did you see Milo?
He barely lived. It was so cruel.
Maybe he could show you around.
Or our Scruffmeister, are you just in some Scotland-like field?
Running and herding sheep.
Chasing and nipping with tail-wagging glee?
I suppose it'll take you time to know your way around.
It's a great big place, I imagine, where all that once lived now roam.
Free of all the pain, but I bet you'll miss the pets.
We hate to see you go.
We know you just couldn't stay, though you tried your best to hang on.
You always were that stubborn.
You'll be missed.
Don't let it get to your head.