Day 1: Saying good-bye to Vito the Wonderdog

When I was nine, I had a dog for 3 weeks.

Her name was Pepper, and my grandparents – against their better judgment – brought her over to our house without checking with my parents if they wanted to add an animal to our family.

My parents were good sports about it (well, in front of me they were), and they let me keep Pepper.

Unfortunately, Pepper's life with us was short-lived. In three short weeks she peed rivers on our kitchen floor at night, ripped my mother's living room drapes down from the rod, and – in what I can only describe as a cry for help – ate through a sheet-rocked wall while we were out.

Bye-bye, Pepper.

It wasn't until my late twenties that I became a Dog Mom. We rescued a dog from a shelter when he was still a puppy. He was in a pen outside, and the minute I spotted him, I stood protectively at the fence. A family with two small kids came over and pointed at my future dog, until I possessively told them, "He's mine. We're adopting him."

And Vito joined our family.

He was kind and gentle, with eyes so expressive it was as if he understood you when you spoke to him. He was patient and well-behaved, you could leave him alone without ever having to worry about anything.

Vito's favorite place to be was on the couch, lying on our laps. He loved us so fiercely and unconditionally; the only thing he wanted was to do was be with us.

Vito was so very much part of our everyday lives – from the specially-built window seat in the living where he could sleep in the sun and watch the squirrels, to planning family vacations at pet-friendly houses so Vito could come with us – that I never imagined life without Vito.

As the years went on, Vito's face grayed with age, he lost his hearing, and eventually had trouble jumping up on the couch. He was getting older, slowing down. But every once in a while he'd chase a chipmunk or play with one of his toys, and we'd get a glimpse of that puppy that we adopted all those years ago.

This past July, we said goodbye to Vito. I don't remember another day in my life when I was so broken hearted. His time had come; he had given us all the love he had.

As we held him, during his last few moments of life, I looked one last time into his soulful eyes, and I swear he understood how much I loved him, how much he meant to us, and I think he even silently thanked us for letting him go.

I still listen to hear the clicking of his nails on our hardwood floors.

When I drop a piece of food on the floor, my immediate thought is, "Oh, Vito will get it."

And when I come home from being out, I still expect Vito to come running around the corner to greet me.

We miss Vito every day. And we are so thankful for the 15+ years that we had together.

He made us better humans, and taught us how to love unconditionally. He truly was a Wonder Dog.