05/20/2025
If Only You Knew – A Love Letter from Your Dog
You never heard me speak, but I told you a thousand stories—with every wag, every nudge, every warm sigh against your knee.
I was there when the world felt heavy, pressing my head into your palm like a secret promise: "You’re not alone." I memorized the sound of your laughter, the way your footsteps changed when joy lit you up from within. And when sadness dimmed your light? I licked your tears, hoping you’d taste the truth—that you were everything to me.
We had our own language, you and I. The tilt of my ears said, "Tell me more." The thump of my tail whispered, "I’m here, I’m here, I’m here." And at night, when my paws twitched in dreams, I was running through fields of forever, always beside you.
Time is a tricky thing. It gave me just enough to teach you about love—the kind that asks for nothing, the kind that stays. But if I could stop the clock? I’d choose every gray whisker, every stiff step, just to spend them with you.
So when my muzzle fades to white and my leaps grow smaller than your sorrow, remember this: Love doesn’t end. It lingers in the squeak of a forgotten toy, in the echo of my bark down the hall. It waits for you in the rustle of leaves on our favorite path.
And if you ever doubt? Close your eyes. Feel the ghost of my fur beneath your fingers, the weight of my head on your foot. I loved you fiercely. Not because you were perfect, but because you were you.
P.S. If you get another ball-chasing, tail-wagging heart to care for, don’t you dare feel guilty. Love is infinite—and I taught you how to share it well.
"Dogs leave paw prints on our souls. But humans? They leave whole galaxies in ours."
(Now go eat an extra cookie for me. I won’t tell.)