I’m having a difficult time writing this, likely because I’m sitting squarely in the ‘Denial’ stage of grief. It all happened so quickly that I wouldn’t laugh you off if you told me Lux was just sleeping in his usual spot and would come bounding around the corner when he wakes up!

While we’ve been working through and treating an incurable cancer for seven months (following a one-to-three month diagnosis!), his downturn happened only a few days ago. Within a matter of literally two days, he went from going on a long, morning walk… to not being able to even stand up on his own. I look at pictures and videos from his birthday literally one week ago and sit in complete shock.

But I know it’s true… my sweet baby boy, my most perfect guardian angel, got his wings on November 29. He was surrounded by family at home and passed very peacefully on a sunny but chilly day with relaxing classical music playing in the background and a light breeze blowing through his fur.

I know I’ll always remember his smile and infectious energy, but I hope I remember the way he loved to flop down on my same pillow with a big sigh at the end of the day. I know I’ll always remember his Cindy Crawford mole that he’s had since day one, but I hope I remember his crimpy, incredibly soft puppy fur on his ears that never left. I know I’ll always remember the work he did as a therapy animal to help those suffering through addictions and PTSD, but I hope I remember how much he completely and totally rescued ME through depression and anxiety and several difficult life stages. I know I’ll always remember how much he absolutely LOVED the cold air, starting many nights sleeping out on the patio, but I hope I remember that he used the doggy door to come in every single night to sleep with at least a paw touching us to feel safe. I know I’ll always remember his beautiful smile, but I hope I remember how much he loved stuffed animals and how he would dance in circles when he knew we were close to home on our walks. I know I’ll always remember that he loved the front seat of the car and had learned to put the seat back to sleep on long car rides, but I hope I remember how excited he always got when we pulled off the highway because we were close to somewhere new and good. I know I’ll remember that he adored his natural antlers from the forest, but I hope I remember his funny habit of pushing his ball through the snow. I know I’ll always remember how much he loved beach days and swimming, but I hope I remember how adorable he looked after each bath (that he absolutely hated). I know I’ll always remember his expressive eyes, but I hope I remember his adorable dog head tilt when he didn’t recognize new animal sounds.

I could go on for days. We were always together, a package deal, two peas in a pod. I’m sincerely not even sure what I’m like without Luxembourg standing immediately next to me or sitting on my feet.

When we get dogs, we know that, God willing, we are going to live longer than them. Maybe not today, but one day they will leave us and hopefully wait patiently to greet us at the gates to heaven. But I hope he’s able to play while he waits. I hope he’s able to hike the trails we love free from pain. I hope he’s able to be with people and dogs he loves and is able to come back sometimes to say hi. I hope he doesn’t feel alone.

I have a long road of grief ahead of me, I’m sure. Lux and I were connected in so many incredible ways – many that are very painful to even consider undoing.

But goodness, Luxembourg sure did live a beautiful life. “I miss him” feels too trite. I feel incomplete without him here. I feel complete solace knowing that he’s free from pain, but there no way around this but through… and this hurts.

Hug your pups a little tighter. They are our angels without wings here on earth.

Fly free, Lux. But please come back to visit, too. 💗