He was by your side when you fell asleep at night—and there when you woke up again in the morning. Even when your mom hollered, “Get that dog off the bed!” you just patted the mattress to encourage him to hop up and snuggle close to your side as the house grew dark and quiet. You slept peacefully, knowing your guardian would keep you safe from whatever monsters might be lurking in the closet.
He was right there when you learned to ride a bike, hovering alongside back in those days when it took all your concentration to make the pedals go around in the right direction and steer away from the parked cars. When you fell to the sidewalk in a slow-motion, wobbly crash, he worriedly licked your skinned knee…and his eyes shone with encouragement as you untangled yourself from the spokes and got up to try again.
He darted excitedly ahead as you explored the woods at the far end of the subdivision, dashing excitedly after the bunnies and squirrels and splashing with wild abandon through the shallow waters of the creek, but always darting back to your side as you picked your way through the weeds and wildflowers.
He nestled close to your feet under the dinner table, dutifully cleaning up any accidental spills of peas and carrots, and happily snapping up the occasional reward of meat loaf.
He zoomed in ecstatic circles, leaping to impossible heights when you came home from school every day. He didn’t care about your algebra grade; it didn’t matter that your ceramics project collapsed in a heap; and never mind that all your books fell out of your locker in an embarrassing avalanche just as your crush walked by. He was just happy to see you, the most wonderful person in all the whole wide world.
Those floppy ears always perked up, ready to listen to your secrets, and that thick ruff of fur around his neck absorbed your tears on those lonely days when nobody else understood.
As the years went by and you started spending more time with friends—the two-legged kind—he still waited patiently for you to return home from ball games and sleepovers. When you shoved him out of the room when your friends came over, he took up his faithful post right outside your closed door, his snout resting on the rug as he pondered what this new word “allergic” might mean.
Then you went away to college, and he stood for long hours at the window, listening for the sound of your car from miles away.
And when you came home for the holidays or the occasional weekend, he couldn’t jump as high as he used to, but he still wriggled with excitement and yelped with joy as you came through the door, suitcase banging against your legs, and when you reached down to scratch his ears, the look you saw his eyes was love, pure love.
Then came the day when you got a call from home. He wasn’t getting any better. The vet had done all he could.
The time had come.
You drove home. Your throat was tight and the road was blurry.
You opened the door. Your parents were standing close together. Your dog—your friend—was lying on his old familiar blanket in the old familiar corner. Your dad described how his tail started to wag—slowly, weakly—as your car pulled into the driveway; you’ve never heard your father’s voice sounding so hoarse.
You knelt down on the floor, murmuring words of comfort. Those gentle brown eyes looked up at you, the pain replaced for a moment with gratitude just for your very presence.
And for the first time, you began to understand the meaning of unconditional love, a love that lasts forever.
