To my dog, Millie

by second year Ava Gruszczinski

I remember when we brought you home–your name was Blackie, and we adopted you from PetSmart after Dad and I begged Mom to get you. I cried and cried when they changed your name because I didn’t understand change yet. You were only one or two, but now you’re fifteen.

I’ve seen you change so much now. Patches of gray and white spread like snowfall on your fur, creeping in between your paws and up your legs. It’s beautiful, your pepper-colored fur sprinkled with a little bit of salt. Year after year, your little white beard gets bigger and fuller like Santa Clause. Those big brown eyes cloud over with a film of memories, but you still know my voice.

Sometimes it’s hard coming home. Before college, your presence in my life felt so permanent. Now, nothing is guaranteed. Each time I come home and call your name, I’m not sure you’ll be there to greet me. But you always do, every time. You and I will sit on the floor and you crawl between my legs, and we remember how different we look now. I know one day, I’ll come home and call out to you, and I’ll sit on the floor by myself. But you don’t care about that, it doesn’t matter to you. You want to ride shotgun in the car and go on walks around the park. You want to catch the treat I throw you and bask in the sunrays outside. You won’t care that you’re gone, just that we got to play.

I think a lot about how hard it is to say goodbye. The day I won’t get to hear your soft snores or see your teeth stick out while you sleep. Our time together is short and bittersweet, but the love you’ve given me will last a lifetime. I love you forever and always.