I can’t decide what I love most about you. Sometimes, I think it’s your seemingly endless energy that you can tap into at a moment’s notice to spring onto a chair to sit with me or slip through a closing door to follow me. Sometimes, I think it’s the way your tail hits me in the face when you’re bouncing around, so happy that I’ve come home. Maybe it’s the way you find the patch of sunlight on the floor to roll around in, or maybe it’s when you lick the tears off my face when I’ve started to cry.

The moment I saw you, I knew you were mine. All the other puppies were playing together, but you were off in a corner on your own. I knelt down, and you looked at me with your big eyes, and we both knew how it felt to be alone. I’m afraid of dogs I don’t know, but I was never afraid to hold you. I still remember you sneezing on my arm as I carried you to the car. From the very first day, I became your safe space; when you were afraid of the loud noises and new people, you buried your little head into me to hide.

We protected each other. You’re so little, but if someone yells at me, you bark and bark until they stop. When I cry, you jump into bed with me and lick away the tears. You let me hold you late at night when everything in the world is falling apart, but we’re still OK.

If dogs take on their owners’ personality traits, I’m sorry I’ve made you so lazy. But I love that you’re perfectly happy spending a Saturday in bed with me while I watch Netflix for hours, and I love that you’ll also run in circles happily when I grab your leash because I want to go for a walk.

You’re my very best friend. I didn’t cry leaving anyone when I moved away for school, but I cried when I was leaving for the airport at four in the morning and you looked at me from inside your cage, wondering where I was going to go and when I would be back. You’re bigger now, but you looked just like you did when I saw you the first time, inside a cage, staring at me with big, dark eyes, alone and wondering what was happening. I said my final goodbyes and went out to the car to cry because nothing hurts more than not being able to explain to your best friend why you’ll be away for so many months.

When everything was overwhelming and I had more anxiety than I thought I could possibly take, you came into my life and made it easier to breathe. Your unceasing joy made it easier for me to see all of the brightest things in my life again. I miss you every single day that I am six hours away at school, and I’m counting down the days until I’m reunited with my favorite little ball of fur and excitement (because I do firmly believe that six years later, you are still made up of about 30 percent fur and 70 percent pure enthusiasm).

I hope everyone gets a chance to experience a best friend like you, who can sit, stay, roll over and lick away the tears when everything is too much. Thank you for making me so happy. I will always protect you.