Dear Bucket, aka bubs, aka bubber, aka boobs, aka bucky, aka buckato, aka bucky boy, aka baby boy, aka mr buckatina and many more.

Thank you for being a part of my life. I wasn't planning on getting a pug, but when I saw you I knew I had to bring you home. You taught me so much. You came into my life at the perfect time. I needed you. Over the years I needed you to survive. In the past few years I needed you less. You stuck around and made it to this past few months helped me though the biggest transitions of my life. Getting married, buying a house, and fully breaking ties with my ex. And then you were gone, with little warning you left. I got over 9 years with you, countless jokes, thousand photos, million walks, a trillion licks, and endless loves.

Had to seat belt you in because you would put almost half your body out the window that you rolled down yourself.

Lessons I learned from Bucket:

How to love. Unconditionally and conditionally for treats.

To teach with passion and patience. I taught you so many tricks, you even learned to skateboard. You shared my passion for golf.

You taught me how predatory lending works. I used the in house pet store financing to take you home and ended up paying way more than I ever expected to.

Emotional support and the importance of walks. Making me take more time walking than I wanted to. Refusing to potty quickly and punishing me if I didn’t take him out long enough to go.

When you bring something everywhere you feel it more when it is gone. Makes me think now more about the things I am taking for granted. Losing you has felt like losing an arm or a part of me that I used every day. I didn’t know until it was taken how important you was.

Presence and patience. Appreciating the moment and the journey. When I would be worrying about something I would look back and you would be putting your own window down in the pouring rain just wanting to stick your head out to feel the breeze and all the smells.

Photography. As my constant companion you were my constant model. Always down to look cute in cool places. The greatest subject. Always gave me something to get excited to photograph. My test subject when I got a new lens or camera or flash.

The importance of tending to something beyond myself. This extended into several areas, not just feeding and bathing. Being in service to something gives me purpose and keeps me in check. You got health insurance before I did.

Little man saved my life. I was in a abusive relationship that I felt I could not escape. I was going to end it, but I had you with me and I didn’t want you to get hurt, so I started planning how I would go about it to make sure you were taken care of and in the process I realized I didn’t want to go yet. I remember I was crying in the driver’s seat, and I looked back you were just looking out the window smiling, and got excited because I was looking at you. Those big full brown pug eyes and soft floppy ears, that little furball made me hesitate enough to live on.

Letting go, I am learning this one right now in the end. You are teaching me how to let go and that nothing lasts forever.

Compassion. In the end you taught me compassion and selflessness. You made me make a decision, that I must not be selfish, spending time and money keeping you alive. The choice to keep you alive would be the choice of pain. Pain for you and for me seeing my baby boy suffer.

You may be gone but the lessons you taught me will live on. I must take what you learned, be better, be stronger. I can be sad but the best way to remember you is to live your lessons.

I can do this. I can live on and honor you. Honor your memory. You rocked that name so hard. Even on your final day the doctor smiled when I said your name. She could see the joy you brought to everyone you came in contact with even in an emergency situation. I sit here with no regrets, I kept you safe, happy, and healthy all the way until your final moments. I love you so much Bucket. I know you found a new soft place to rest where the window is always down at the perfect 35mph. You taught me to walk and now I must walk alone. From come Bucket to go Bucket.

Sincerely,

Bjorn.

A love letter to my baby boy, Bucket.