Losing the family dog is like losing your favorite pair of socks—sure, you can replace them, but they’ll never be quite the same. From their early morning wake-up calls (read: slobbery kisses) to their late-night cuddle sessions, our four-legged pals become more than just pets; they’re part of the family.

Shadow and Hank were a pair, an inseparable duo who brought double the joy and laughter into our lives. But now, with one gone, the mourning Hank is expressing is surreal, a part of his family is missing too — a void too vast to comprehend.

I remember when we brought Shadow home. A fluffy bundle of joy, all wiggles and puppy breath. We got him for our youngest, who’s now 24. But let’s be real, who did Shadow really belong to? He was everyone’s best friend, therapist, and personal garbage disposal rolled into one. I was the one who kept raising him once everyone left the nest.

The sense of loss, to their once vibrant energy is diluted, their playful antics replaced by moments of quiet contemplation. It’s in these moments that the weight of the loss truly hits home, as we witness firsthand the depth of their bond the constant energy we felt gone, replaced by a magnitude of grief. In both Hank and the family. The house no longer echoes with playful barks or the sound of paws padding across the floor in a sudden chase. It’s as if a piece of our everyday routine has vanished, leaving behind a palpable sense of emptiness.

So, here’s to you, Shadow, you may have left a paw-sized hole in our hearts, but you’ve also left us with a lifetime of memories. Rest in peace, old friend. Until we meet again at the great hydrant in the sky.