Yesterday I learned that my dog had to be put down. His name was Zephyr. He was a 12-year-old Maremma Sheepdog, and the most loyal fluffy polar bear a guy could ask for. I’m at least thankful that I was able to go home for the weekend to be with him one last time and say goodbye.

Like all Maremmas, he was an outdoor dog by choice. He took it upon himself to guard the property rain or shine, blizzard or drought. Even yesterday, despite being half paralyzed and unable to eat, he refused to be indoors. I wish I could be that tough.

This igloo is about as “indoors” as he ever got. He had a property to protect!
Buried under an inch of snow and couldn’t be happier about it!


Zephyr riding shotgun the day I passed my driver’s test (I know, I look like I’m 12)
I was in 6th grade when this photo was taken. Zephyr has been with me through Middle School, High School, College, and now my first year in the working world.


Hopefully he’s living in a beautiful arctic wonderland now. Sleep easy baby.