I have been dreaming up great and poetic blog posts about Jake Johnson all day long. I want something that will serve his memory well. But I can't. Because I miss him so much.

I look at this picture, taken yesterday before we took him to be put down, and I see the puppy we picked up 13 years ago. He doesn't look like a dog who needed to be put down. But he did.

He was old, and well loved, and in pain. And he held on for us. He was ready to go a long time ago, but we weren't ready for him. So he waited. And he hid is pain and old age, so we could have just a little more time with him.

But when we made the decision -- the hardest decision of our lives to date -- he let his pain show. And he slowed down, and we were able to see that he wasn't our puppy anymore. He was a well loved dog who was ready to go. And so we let him.

And he went peacefully, and quickly, and we held him and told him we loved him. And I felt a peace that told me that he knew we loved him, and he was happy. And loved him we did. And love him we do.

I wonder if, when we brought home pets, they came with a warning that said in bold letters: WARNING: HEART ACHE TO FOLLOW we would listen. I don't think we would.

I think we also look at the warning that comes with a pet that reads: WARNING: LOVE.

Because that's what Jake was, love.

And I miss him today.

And I will miss him tomorrow.

And I will miss him for a while to come.

But that's ok, because he was loved. And he gave us more than we could ever want in a big fluffy poodle.

And right now, his Heaven is chasing squirrels, licking ice cream bowls, and not having to wait for a table-for-two at Applebee's.