Today, we said goodbye to Shady—our beloved old lady, our soft-hearted shadow. Somewhere between 13 and 14 years old, she crossed the Rainbow Bridge, leaving behind a house filled with love, memories, and paw prints that will never fade.
Shady wasn’t always ours. She was a senior dog needing a second chance—a face my mom and her boyfriend stumbled upon online about six years ago.
Credit: Cybergirl57
It was close to Christmas 2015 when she came home. With her shy eyes and quiet charm, it didn’t take long for her to settle in. She claimed her spot in our lives like she’d always belonged there.
She wasn’t perfect, which made her all the more perfect to us. She was quirky, needy, and too eager to chase anything smaller than her.
But she was also deeply sweet—curling up beside her people, her soft body melting into a chair, just happy to be close. That was her love language: quiet closeness.
Credit: Cybergirl57
Shady wasn’t technically mine—but she made me feel like I was hers. Every visit home, she greeted me with joyful wiggles, sometimes so wobbly she’d tip over in excitement.
And always, always, she flashed that signature Pittie grin. She slept in my room, followed me like a loyal shadow, and ensured I knew: You are seen. You are loved. You matter.
She was the Snowy to my Tintin. The Scooby to my Shaggy. The Toto to my Dorothy. She made a million quiet moments feel full.
Like her love, her presence was constant—never loud, never demanding, just there. And now, the silence left behind is louder than I expected.
Credit: Cybergirl57
Shady showed the world what it truly means to be a good dog. She softened hearts. She brought peace. She proved, every day, that love doesn’t have to shout to be heard.
Sleep well, Shady lady. You were everything we didn’t know we needed and more. Thank you for every wag, every cuddle, every moment you chose to spend by our sides. You were the best girl. Always.
