Last Saturday, I wrote that my time with Apollo was waning. When I wrote that, I thought that I still had a couple of years left with him, not hours. He passed away Saturday night after a medical emergency. His overall prognosis had been good, but we went to the ER to get a potential complication checked out and it went downhill very, very fast. It was a traumatic experience for everyone involved. I know so many people loved Apollo, even those who haven’t met him, and I don’t want to dump any of that on you. Instead, I will use this post to pay homage to one of the loves of my life.

Apollo was my dog the moment I met him. It was love at first sight. The first day we met him, I cried when we said goodbye to him, because I felt like I was leaving my dog behind. But I won’t lie – his puppy years were ROUGH. LOL. I have a theory that the cuter the puppy, the more turmoil they leave in their wake. Apollo was one of the cutest puppies I’ve ever seen, and he was a destructive little dude. Apollo ate EVERYTHING – my shoes, multiple laptop cords, the carpet, the blinds, one of the last pieces of a puzzle that I had worked so hard on, toilet paper. Oh, he loved toilet paper. Even in his old age, you could not leave toilet paper, tissues, or paper towels in his reach, because he would shove them into his mouth as quickly as he could.

This makes me sound like I never watched him, but anyone who’s had a puppy will know that it just takes thirty seconds for them to destroy something. I remember being very overwhelmed those first couple of months. Husband and I had just been dating for six months and were living two hours apart. We’d agreed that I’d have primary custody of Apollo during the week. (This is one of those “it worked out for us but don’t generally recommend” life experiences. We’re lucky we were solid when we got Apollo, but looking back, getting a new puppy six months into a new, long-distance relationship was a little crazy. I obviously have zero regrets, though).

I remember talking with my dad during those first weeks, and he told me that Apollo would eventually calm down, and I’d have an amazing little friend. He was right. Apollo has been my constant companion these twelve and a half years. They weren’t long enough. His death has left an enormous void in the house.

He’s everywhere. We kept his little water bowl and mat by the back door. His collar is on the counter. His puppy toys are still strewn around the house where he last left them. His puppy stairs are still by the couch. I work from home in the mornings and he used to sleep in a cozy bed, right under my feet. The bed is still here, but I can’t put a blanket in it, because I know I’ll forget for a millisecond and think he’s still there, sleeping. Mittens has been looking for him, and it breaks my heart that they won’t have more time together.

Apollo loved Mommy and Daddy, grew to love his sisters, and was the best snuggler in the world. He had such a mischievous spirit, right until the end. Even during his last morning with us, he tried to drink from my coffee cup. He loved people and going on adventures, especially at his favorite park. He fucking LOVED pill pockets. If there’s a dog heaven, he’s currently getting very fat on his peanut butter pill pockets. His favorite thing to do was blooping a treat ball towards us, because we would put pill pockets in the middle for him to find and eat. He loved cheese and marshmallows, putting the TV on Smartcast, trying to steal his mom’s food at all times, going on bye byes, and getting new toys. He loved couch time, taking naps with us, and leaving nose prints as he looked out the window on a car ride. He had noisy little yawns and loved puppy pot roast time out in the sunshine. If you took him through a Starbucks drive-through line, you’d better get him a pup cup or else there would be hell to pay. He loved getting all the other dogs in the neighborhood to bark.

Apollo taught me patience and unconditional love. He was the best dog. Even knowing how it ended, I would gladly do it over again, knowing that I get to be with him. I would give anything to have him back and to give him a gentler last day.

Apollo is irreplaceable, and I will miss him for the rest of my life. I told him every day how much I love him. I hope he’s somewhere where he knows that we love him so much, and we tried so hard to keep him here with us. I will love him until my last day. I’m so grateful the universe led me to him. Thank you for everything, baby boy. You don’t know how much we miss you and love you.