Kizzy packed a lot of life and love into his little body and short time here in the world. He was concentrated love, no dilution. He burned candles at both ends, collected toys with a passion and guarded my front door with ferocity until he decided you were a friend. He brought smiles to everyone who saw him because he was so stinking cute and his personality seeped through him, even when he was sleeping.

Kizzy wasn’t perfect. He was a thief. He stole toys, hearts, slippers and attention without any shame or regret, and refused to be reformed. But he was also a lover, and settled into my arms and my life with ease—so all was forgiven.

Kizzy, you helped me take the best selfies. You were the best part of 2018. You healed my heart after saying good-bye to Nora Isadora(able) last November. She was a toy hound too, so I’m sure you and she are raiding toy boxes at the Rainbow Bridge, running off with glee at your latest acquisitions.

If love could have healed you, you’d have lived with me until my last days in this world. Now I will miss you until I see you again in the next. Run free, sweet, sweet boy, my Little Dude, my KizzyBit. Dream of me when you're resting in the sun. I will surely dream of you.