Once in a lifetime. It's an overused clichÃÃ��, but that's how it seems. He was here and then gone in mere moments. Nine and a half years doesn't sound like moments, but right now it sure feels that way. The picture on the fridge of a little black puppy, ears in flight, running to me across the backyard grass - I had no idea what a friend I would make with that little guy. He became my pal, my confidant, my shadow. We knew each others thoughts, the next move, how each of us felt. A sound, gesture or just a look was all it took and we were off on an excursion to the backyard, the store or a days long roadtrip. It never got old or routine, there was always anticipation and excitement. We were there for each other, and when he lost his sight, we adapted and carried on like nothing had changed; we actually grew closer. When he got sick and the treatments came, we adapted again. There was trust and confidence between us that everything would be alright, and it was. It was an opportunity to grow even closer, to learn how to care and listen and love even more. Every minute together took on a new sense of sincerity. And when it was time for him to go, he understood my words because we understood each other and knew everything would be alright. And it will be. There's a hole in my heart, and eternal longing for the cold nose, ever wagging tail and personality that always will be Leroy. We will meet again, but until that time, there's a lifetime of memories so fond and warm that I know in my heart, all is well. Love you Boy.