Cuddles,
I remember the first day we got you. I was six and Mom brought you in the car to pick me up from school. I loved your big, adorable eyes and the way your little black body wiggled. You loved to be in anyone's lap. I gave you your name. Your ears were so cute flopping above the alfalfa field when you chased things and you had the best growl when digging relentlessly with your giant fuzzy paws. And you loved to play, always being careful to bite only my sleeve or pant legs. You also loved to sleep. The Cuddles chair still has your drool on the arm. Finally after years of bribing and coaxing, you learned to slap your fuzz paw into our hands for a treat. And you tolerated wearing doll clothes if I fed you milk, and you'd run through the hallway obstacle course for bones. Your best trick was when I was really upset, you'd sit by me and lick the tears off my face. You were there for practically every major event in my life -- family vacations, death of Taffy, traumatic moves -- and I can barely remember life before you. It's going to be unbelievably difficult to get used to life without you. I'll miss you so much