Dear Shelly,

Hi honeybunnies! Today is a beautiful day, finally after such a long wet winter. Wet spring too but today is a day you would love to run and roll in the grass. It is June 11, 2025. You left us May 30, 2025. Your passing has been unbearable. I am crying pretty much non-stop for you, or for me because I miss you so so much. I'm going to tell you why:

You came to us permanently on March 19, 2016, your birthdate was estimated at October 29, 2014. You were rescued from Arkansas. I don't know what kind of life that was, but I know it wasn't good.

I loved walking you. You were so strong though, and you pulled me all the time. I slowly started to let you off leash. You chased whatever you could, sometimes scaring me when I couldn't find you for a while. You ran across a busy road one morning chasing deer. I felt my stomach drop. You always came back, when you were ready.

We moved to our own place in Holliston. I loved having you sleep with me in the bed, your soft, consistent snoring making me feel safe.

There were so many trails there and we walked all the time. You were much better about coming back and it was great to let you off leash to run and chase. I remember once you crashed your head hard into a tree - but you caught the chipmunk. We were out in rain, snow, blistering hot and freezing cold weather. There were many times you would look at me and I at you and we would turn home. But we always, always gave it our best shot.

Then we met Tim and Pluto and everything changed. The four of us did everything together. Pluto made sure you loved him, and you did. We spent weekends hiking the trails. We ate together, we slept together.

You gave me love, you gave me comfort, you gave me laughter. When I was sad you would walk close to me. There were a lot of walks I cried on and you looked at me and I hugged you. You looked at me when you were uncertain; you would position yourself between my legs for butt rubs; you would get up and come to the door when I got home and we would go for our walk; you loved riding in the car with your head out the window; you would sit in my seat if I had to run an errand and leave you in the car; you let me rub your belly and would push against me with your paw; when we moved in with Tim and Pluto it did not take you long to be comfortable. Again, it was the four of us, every day. We took you two where ever we could. Maine, the Cape, we always found trails. You taught Pluto how to eat an ice cream.

Then Pluto died. We were devastated. If you could have shed tears you would have. For weeks, months, you walked slowly on the trails, you were so sad, it was palpable. It was the three of us, you, me and Tim. We continued doing the same as we always did, the walks, the afternoon treats, the three of us sleeping together. It was just different. The way you would wait on the front steps to be escorted to the car for a walk. I wish I could explain to you just how much you meant, and still mean, to me. Shelly I love you. Nine years we were together. When suddenly on May 30, it seemed you couldn't get up. We brought you to the ER later that evening and they found a burst tumor squeezing your heart. When you came back to us for your final moments you licked our faces, and for that I will be forever grateful. And then you were gone from our lives. Never from my heart. This incredibly painful, empty feeling I have without you. Please, Shells, don't ever leave my heart. I think I did the best I could for you. You had a beautiful, fun, adventurous, loving, safe life and I am grateful for that. I am grateful for you. I love you Shells. This is not a goodbye, but a letter to say what you mean to me, to say I hold you in my heart. I miss you.

Love always,

Mom