Floyd

“This is our Floyd. Floydamus, as we often called him, was his (human) daddy’s shadow. He was more of a cat than a dog in most of his behavior. He did Floyd-aerobics (going from all fours to his hind legs several times over…while grunting) before he could jump onto a bed or couch.

Floyd was our Pokémon puppy; he knew all sorts of attacks like “tear it up,” “dig,” and “growl.” He loved to have his fur vacuumed, and his favorite spot was under the Christmas tree skirt during the holiday season. Walkies were his favorite, and he loved to sunbathe. But forget about camping outdoors—sleeping could only be done on the comfiest of blankets.

He had an adopted (doggy) sister that he mostly couldn’t stand to be around, but we would often catch them cuddled together if there was a storm outside or if there was a chill—mostly her cuddling up to him while he was already asleep. He was the runt of his litter and never actually grew much past half his siblings’ heights. He was a Jack Russell/Shih Tzu, but we actually got asked often if he was a Chihuahua/St. Bernard mix.

Floyd was 14 years old when we had to make a decision about his quality of life. Even through the glazed-over eyes of his old age, we could see the puppy he once was, and his presence in the house was always felt even when he was sleeping. He was a sense of calm in our lives and the biggest greeter at the door when we got home from work. He is greatly missed and lives forever in our hearts.

When I vacuum, I am still finding mini-Floyds around the table legs and chairs or stepping on stuffing from his ripped-up toys. I am just grateful for the time we did get to have with him and that we were able to be with him when he made his journey across the rainbow bridge, wrapped in his blankets and surrounded by love.”