An Open Letter to Our Sadie Bear: Missing Our Faithful Basset Hound

Dear Sadie Bear,

Seventeen years. That’s how long you were here, loving, snoozing, wagging, and making every home you lived in feel softer somehow. You were already part of this world long before I entered yours, but from the moment we met, it was as if you had been waiting for me, too.

You were my husband’s (then boyfriend) rescue, his loyal companion through seasons that nearly broke him. And then, as if you somehow knew your next chapter was about to begin, you welcomed me without a bark, without hesitation. You just looked at me with those droopy brown eyes that said, “I know who you are.” And that was it. I was yours.

You were there through it all, Sadie.
When I was the new girl in a new country, homesick and unsure, you were my first friend. You gave me a reason to get up every morning, to take slow walks, to laugh at the little things again. You made this unfamiliar place feel like home.

I only got to be with you for six of your seventeen years, but what a gift those six years were. You taught me that love doesn’t need decades to feel forever. You made me part of your story as if I had been there all along.

You were with me through the quietest hours of motherhood. When I worked from home, you were always there at my feet, snoring softly like a lullaby I did not know I needed. When I got pregnant, you turned into my shadow, watching me waddle through sleepless nights, resting your head beside my growing belly like you knew your little human sibling was inside.

You stayed through joy and heartbreak, too. When we lost our baby boy, you sat near me, steady and still, saying nothing yet understanding everything. You did not need to fix my grief. You just held space for it. That was your way of loving us, steady, patient, unspoken, perfect.

And then came the years when your steps grew slower, your naps longer, your snuggles even sweeter. We knew time was catching up. But how do you prepare to say goodbye to the heartbeat that has been beside yours for so long?

The night you left, the house felt too quiet. Even the air seemed to hold its breath. But in that stillness, I pictured you running again, ears flapping, tail wagging, reunited with our baby boy beyond the rainbow bridge. Two souls we loved deeply, now side by side again.

It has been months, and still, we think about you every day.
Sometimes it’s the silence after dinner when I half expect to hear your paws on the floor. Sometimes it’s the empty space near my feet when I work. Sometimes when my toddler throws food on the floor, I find myself waiting for you to come and eat whatever she drops. But of course, that never happens, because you are not really there. Still, I can almost see you, trotting over with that same calm patience that made you who you were.

We miss you, Sadie. We miss the echo of your bark that still seems to linger in the mornings, faint and familiar, as if you are just around the corner, reminding us you never really left.

Thank you, Sadie Bear.
For loving us through every chapter.
For teaching us what devotion looks like.
For being home before we even knew what that meant.

You will always be our good girl.
Our soft place to land.
Our forever heartbeat in pawprints.

Until we meet again, sweet girl.

Signed,
Jalyn