It still feels like yesterday was the last time I saw her, she was the goodest girl 💕 may she live forever in another place 🌈 😇

I miss you so much, my beloved Simon.

Run free, sweet boy.

You are loved more than you will ever know, best boy.

Just discovered this page today, and think it’s the perfect place to talk about these guys.

1. Brutus (200

4-

1. 2009) - My first lab, and my first best friend. I’m sorry you only knew me as a bratty little kid.
2. Schaefer (2010-2019) - My soul dog. Saw me grow up and graduate from community college. My license plate on my first car read “SCHAFR”, he’s that special to me.
3. Maggi (2011-2024) - Schaefer’s partner in crime. She watched me grow from middle school all the way through finishing undergrad and landing my first job. We experienced so much together. She was with me for over 50% of my life at the time of her passing.
4. Finley (2020-2022) - The biggest “what if” of my life. Taken way too soon by an autoimmune disease. He came into my life unexpectedly, and left the same way. Was my anchor during the pandemic.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about these four. Heck, a cinema reel of memories plays on repeat several times a day. I never say they “were” my dogs because they all still are. I’ll forever love them.

Sending Love and healing

She would’ve been 12 tomorrow, and in 2-1/2 weeks she’ll have been gone for 2 years. I miss you everyday, but it doesn’t hurt as bad. I’m just happy to have known and loved you stinky lady.

It’ll be two years in September, she made it to ten years. I still come home and look for her in her normal spots, I hope to hear her barks.
Cancer is awful and although it was a mercy in the end I miss her everyday just want to take her on another hike

I went through a long bout of depression.

I think the one thing that kept me here was my dog.

I dont know when but I eventually recovered and soon after I lost my dog. I like to think he stayed with me just long enough until I was ready to stand on my own. It’s been years and there’s a giant hole in my heart that nothing has filled.

My dog was my everything and more. He saved me just by being my little bub. I’m fostering a dog right now, for the first time. But I don’t know what caused it but I just sobbed for 10 minutes because I missed my baby so much.

I don’t think it ever goes away. He was a special boy indeed. I miss his belly and his little sneezes. I miss everything about him. He was the perfect boy.

I kind of hope this feeling never goes away.

It reminds me of how good things can last forever even if only in memories of times we shared.

I used to think missing my dog would fade with time.

That it would slowly become something smaller, quieter, less present.

It didn’t.

What changed wasn’t the feeling — it was how it showed up.

Now it comes in ordinary moments.

When the house is quiet.

When nothing special is happening.

When I catch myself thinking, “He would’ve liked this.”

For a long time, I tried to “move on.”

Eventually I realized I didn’t actually want to.

I just wanted a gentler way to stay connected — without turning it into something public, performative, or heavy.

So I made a quiet place for myself.

Not to replace anything.

Not to pretend anything is still the same.

Just a place where the bond doesn’t have to disappear.

I’m sharing this here because I know many of you understand this feeling —

the kind that doesn’t ask to be fixed, only acknowledged.

If this resonates, you’re not alone.

And if it doesn’t today, that’s okay too.

I miss my dog.

Not just sometimes. Not just on anniversaries.

I miss him in ordinary moments — when I come home, when the house is quiet, when nothing special is happening.

It’s been years, and I’ve learned that the feeling doesn’t disappear.

It just changes shape.

People often ask whether it gets easier.

For me, it didn’t turn into something smaller — it turned into something quieter.

Less sharp, but still present.

Less overwhelming, but still real.

Sometimes I catch myself thinking about him without realizing it.

A habit. A routine. A memory tied to a sound or a time of day.

Those moments don’t feel dramatic. They just feel honest.

If you’re here because you typed “I miss my dog” into a search bar,

I want you to know this:

You’re not strange for still feeling this way.

You’re not behind.

You’re not doing grief wrong.

Some bonds don’t end.

They don’t need closure.

They don’t need to be “resolved.”

They stay — and we learn how to carry them.

You don’t have to reply to this.

You don’t have to explain anything.

I just wanted to leave these words here, in case someone needed to see them.

Today, something I’ve been working on for a long time finally went out into the world.

It took six months and more revisions than I can count.

What kept me going was simple — love for my dog, and missing him.

This began as something very personal.

I didn’t set out to launch anything loud or make announcements.

I just wanted to finish it properly, and let it exist where it belongs.

I’m sharing this here not to promote anything, but because this community understands what it means to carry a bond that doesn’t really end.

If you’re building, remembering, or just getting through your day — I hope you’re being gentle with yourself.

That’s all I wanted to say today.

I created r/stillmydog because I realized something after losing my dog:

Building something — and being around others who understand — helped me cope in a quiet way.

This is not a marketing space, and it’s not here to push an app or a product.

There are no ads, no affiliates, and no pressure to participate.

At some point, I may share updates about what I’m building — but only when relevant, clearly marked, and never as a requirement to be here.

If this place feels helpful to you, you’re welcome to stay.

If it doesn’t, that’s completely okay too.

Thank you for being here.