One Sweet Pup

It's one of those moments that I'll never forget, reading an email from my mom explaining how her and dad stood lovingly over our sweet Taylor as the veterinarian laid him to rest (*cue the waterworks). 

I'll also never forget the day, about 15 years ago, when we picked up our sweet Taylor out of a litter of nine golden puppies. I loved him the the moment I picked him up and saw the white diamond shaped patch of fur on his chest--he was the puppy I always wanted. So Taylor entered our family as the silliest, most fun-loving dog we had ever met. 

He definitely had a case of doggy ADHD, if there is such a thing, but we loved him all the same. No matter how many jelly glitter sandals he chewed of mine or bags of Halloween candy he ate, he continually was the highlight of my day. 

Since I moved away from home five years ago, I've missed the daily comfort of seeing our sweet and loving pup. He was one of the most vibrant 15-year-old retrievers you will ever meet, but every time I made a trip back home his age became more apparent. My sister and I often talked about how we dreaded the day he would leave us because, in numerous ways, he was an integral part of our family unit. It seems like every family memory we have from the past 15 years involved our golden fur ball.

Our sweet (loving, loyal, hilarious, farts-and-eats-a-lot) Taylor, you made the last 15 years better simply by being with us. Always loved and always missed. 

xoxo,

Elissa