I remember when we were thinking of getting a new dog. My dad wanted a German Shepherd. So when we finally decided to get a new dog, we went to a breeder, far away from where we lived. When we came to the house, there were so many puppies, so many planned lives. But there was this litter, of unplanned puppies, and you were one of them. A little boy, your fur so dark, so tan. Your little fuzzy ears so fluffy and soft. Your playful eyes looking into ours. We got you, you were ours, to keep and to love.
That was around eight years ago. I was a little girl then. And me and my sisters, my family, we loved you so much. You grew from a small fluffy puppy, into a massive, strong, healthy dog. Our family friend, a member, a protector.
But in the last few months, your health started to dwindle, your fur lost its sheen, your long powerful strides growing slow and clumsy. It was your time. You had gotten sick, fairly recently. We did what we could, but it was for the best that you be put down, no more shame, no more pain, no more suffering.
In the end, I am glad that we got you, my friend, you loved us ten times more than we could have loved you, you protected us from he evil mailman, the lawn mowers in the next door neighbors yard, and all the bees in the backyard.
We will miss you, dearly, my Big Bu-buh.

Rest in peace, Duke.