I wanted to write you this note to tell you how much you mean to me, and I thought that Christmas would be the best time to do it, since we both count it our favorite time of year.
When you came to live in this house almost two years ago, I wondered how you’d react when the holiday season came around and the decorations started to come out. I wondered if you’d poke at the tree or knock over all of the baubles and trinkets we keep on the fireplace. I even wondered if you’d try to mark the tree (Princess did that once before you were here, you know).
But you didn’t do any of those things. In fact, you seemed equally intrigued and excited by all of the holiday fuss. You liked to look at the pretty lights and just linger around the living room, taking it all in. And you never did anything wrong.
I should have known better. You’ve always been a great dog, after all: so kind, gentle, and loyal. Of our three dogs, you’re the one most open to playing with little kids or getting petted by strangers when we’re out for our walks.
Oh, the walks. We should all be so lucky as to find something we love as much as you love going for a walk: the way your ears perk up; the way you try to talk to us in your doggy warbles, asking us to get things moving a little faster; and the way you flop around like a little puppy, even though the arthritis in your hips must make that difficult. I’m delighted to watch that routine every single day.
And it warms my heart to have you here again at Christmastime, even if you’ve gotten a little more mischievous since last year, pulling the presents out from under the tree and trying to open them when you dogs are home alone. Only my presents, too. You’ve just been trying to help me get an early peek, right?
You’re getting well up there in years, and I know you won’t be here forever, but thank you for hanging around for at least one more Christmas. I know you love it, and I hope you know how much I love you.