Laddie: A Eulogy
It seems wrong to let this pass without noting it. So I will say my dogchild Laddie died on Thanksgiving day.
If I were to talk only spiritually, Laddie was a spiritual dog. He would curl up by Apollo's shrine and receive healing from him. He received a reiki session from one friend and a sound healing from another years later. I begged my ancestors to pick up his spirit when it came time and they did in that room where the vet put Laddie to sleep. I truly did not know how many people had visited my ancestor altar until that day.

Laddie was a healer. He came to me trained as a therapy dog from a shady "foster" mother via a kill shelter in Tennessee via the descendants of a poodle breeder who died in her 80s. He was the sweetest, gentlest soul inside and out. Multiple times we would greet dogs with friendly response in the street and the people would exclaim in amazement that their dog was scared of other dogs. I took him to LGTBQ+ centers on my volunteer hours and he would welcome those who came in. And he healed me... I wouldn't be alive now if I didn't have him to care for for 13 years.
Laddie saw me at my absolute worst. He saw me growing up and through all that. He lived with me in four different states. He was there with me through a marriage and 2 more relationships. Along the way, he was placed into multiple comics and projects—just days after his death, I presented my intervention group effort in class, which my classmates had excitedly called Laddie's Whole Wheat Housing.
Laddie was an inspiration.
He was my only consistent person for 13 years.
He was my son.
And even as I have communicated with him, still feel his presence, still talk to him.... My heart has been cracked into pieces.
In the vet room, I said to Laddie, "I want to go with you."
I felt my grandparents' hands on my shoulders. "Not yet."
Later, he showed me how much he loved and trusted me. How he saw all I did for him. How I let him go so he wouldn't suffer anymore. It was the last act of my identity of 13 years: Laddie's parent.
Thank you for everything you taught me, bud. I wish I had been perfect for you. I love you forever.