Written by Kirsty Tholll

For 12 years I knew this day would come, and for 12 years I have dreaded it. I'm not ready, I never have been ready, but I also know I never will be. 

For 12 years, you've been my best friend, shadow, cuddle bug, cheeky bugger, grumpy pup, grumpy gus, princess, protector, dingus, goofball, best boy and handsome man. 

You melted so many people with your charm and got away with so many shenanigans because you were too damn cute for your own good, and you knew it. From extra treats to all the scratches, you absolutely worked the charm to get it to great - and often hilarious - effect. 

You always knew the right look to give when you wanted something, and never pushed too hard when I had to say no (yes I know the grapes look delicious, not my fault they would have made you incredibly sick). Even when you had a chance to sneak something, you always respected a no and waited for permission (most of the time, floor food was mostly fair game if I didn't stop you).

You taught me more about patience and compromise, and that sometimes being more stubborn was needed. Despite your heritage, you were the best behaved pup I had ever known and shocked many. Together we surprised the family, both with how much I remembered with dog training and with how quickly you learned. You were incredibly smart, even tricking me for a bit until I caught on to your shenanigans - I never thought I would have to chastise you for riling another dog up to get them in trouble so you could have the cabin to yourself, and I still admire your ingenuity to even do that in the first place. You knew when you did something wrong, even to the point of putting yourself in time out, and very rarely did something you knew not to do if you could help it.

I will never be able to hear sirens without also hearing you singing along, even when I had to shush you before you disturbed others - I still say 2am is not a time to be singing even if you never did agree. I will always hear your annoyed grumbles and huffs when you really wanted my attention and weren't satisfied I was paying enough attention to you, and long drives will never be the same without your impatient grumblesigh of are we there yet from behind me. You may not have been talkative like your breed traits suggest, but when you were it was for a reason. Your little sleep woofs and flails never failed to bring a smile, and your long suffering sighs always told me when you were fed up with my own shenanigans, especially trimming your nails and plucking you like a chicken when you were really shedding. 

Rest now my pup. Enjoy singing to your hearts content, enjoy all the sniffs and snowballs, the sticks and bones, the delicious foods and all the squeaky toys you loved, you've most certainly earned them. I hope you find your siblings and mom, and all your friends, and enjoy running and napping in warm sun and soft grass. I hope one day I see you again and we can go for runs and you can pull me on my skates, go for hikes and curl up next to cozy campfires. Home is too quiet without you, and a peice of my heart is missing, but I'm proud to have been the one to spend 12 amazing years with you by my side. And the next pup to come along will be raised knowing you taught me to be a better person, better partner, and make their needs a priority, always.

I love you Ralphie, now and always. 12 years was not enough. But it was your time, and I've always made sure you were taken care of. Letting you go isn't what I wanted, but it's what you needed. I miss you so much, and I always will.