I have two dogs — Toby and Baby — who live at my parents’ house. Baby is a dog we rescued in the summer of 2002, and Toby is a three-year-old chow. Baby was around 6 or 7 when we found him, which would make him now 13 or 14.

I went home to see them this afternoon, and found that Baby had passed away. My mom had saw him come inside the porch (they are outside dogs since my mom is severely allergic, but have a glassed-in porch that they have the run of) and had checked on him just moments before I got to the house. She said he was definitely breathing. A few minutes later, he was gone.

It seems like he held on until he heard me come in the house, and then let go. I honestly believe that. He didn’t run away or hide when he knew he was dying — he came inside to be near his family and our other dog.

He hadn’t been himself for several days. I noticed yesterday that he wasn’t eating, and he wobbled a bit when he stood up to greet me. On the way over to my parents’ house this afternoon, I began to think about my other dog, Blackie, who died about four or five years ago, and I was suddenly struck with this feeling that Baby was going to go soon.

I’ve not let myself cry yet. It’s still not real. I feel like if I go home, he’ll greet me at the door with a happy yip and rub his head on my leg.

I don’t want to remember him as I saw him today. I want to remember all the beautiful, sweet, wonderful things that made him so unique — how he and I bark back at one another; about a week ago when he sat next to me and we howled together; him prancing around the yard, his ears flopping up and down; the way he kind of bounced off of his front legs when he was happy to see me; how he took care of me when Blackie died; when Toby was little, and he and Baby used to curl up in Baby’s bed together; the day I found him and called, “Come here, baby!” and the name stuck fast; watching him nap; how damn good he was and how he always let me bathe him and hold him and love on him. He was the sweetest, funnest dog, and I loved every minute I had with him. I miss him horribly, and I know that pain is only going to get worse as it sinks in (because I am in horrible denial), but I know he lived a full, wonderful life, and that he is Somewhere, catching toads and having an entire doggie bed to himself.