The floor looks all wrong.
I thought you should know that, being that you’re now in a position to run the Universe like you always wanted (I presume that flash storm we had yesterday afternoon was the coup you staged shortly after your arrival upstairs). I hope you find the minions there to your satisfaction. I know you were always harping how it was hard to find quality minions.
None of us know what to do without the Queen. Callie is laying all around the floor where you should be, but not in your spot. Your Dad and I are in rough shape. Stupid day job. As much as I prize quiet, the silence is utterly deafening and intolerable. You’re supposed to be giving orders with that curious half bark you’ve had since the stroke.
I’m sure you’ll let us know, when the time comes, which pooch is the right new member of the family. Being that you were a pound puppy yourself, I know you’ll be supportive of us rescuing another. We thought we’d stick with the flower theme for a name–maybe Shasta, in your honor, if we get another girl. When you’re done plotting the downfall of all the squirrels up there, feel free to pass that info along.
We’re going to donate your helper harness to the vet school. You were their mascot and a real champion success story after your FCE. Maybe your indomitable spirit will be passed on to another pup who needs it. You went from this:
You bounced back from unilateral paralysis in an amazing way and never stopped enriching our lives. It was a privilege and a joy to serve you.
So until you figure out how to pull a Winchester, give Angel and Uncle Shadow our our love and have fun plotting your world domination.