In Loving Memory of Ozzy: The Sunshine We Lost Too Soon

This morning, my world shifted. My baby boy, Ozzy, passed away in my arms. He was only nine years old. And while the years we shared feel immeasurable in love, they feel far too few in time.

Just a month ago, Ozzy was diagnosed with Evan’s Disease. No prior conditions, no warning signs—just a sudden, cruel turn of fate. We fought, together. Immunosuppressants were tried. Hope was held tightly. But his body didn’t respond, and over time, he grew weaker. This morning, he couldn’t stand. He turned away from his food, something he’d never done before. And though we planned to let him go peacefully at home, surrounded by familiar love, Ozzy made that decision on his own. On the way back from the vet, he slipped away in my lap. My arms were the last thing he felt. And I hope, in those final seconds, he knew just how deeply he was loved.

Ozzy wasn’t just my dog. He was my joy, my shadow, my constant. He was my mother’s comfort and the brightest light in our home. Expressive in ways no words could match, he always seemed to know what we were feeling. If we were upset, Ozzy would find us—quietly curling into our sides, offering his warmth without condition. He was an old soul and a gentle heart, especially with children. He adored people, always seeking connection. I can’t count how many times I saw strangers melt as he leaned into them for affection, always trusting, always open.

But Ozzy wasn’t just sweet—he was wonderfully stubborn. He had opinions, preferences, a schedule of his own. He’d dig his heels in mid-walk if the route didn’t suit him, or if he simply wanted to stay outside longer. And when it came to play, he was a master of mischief. Socks, tennis balls, anything he could grab—he’d parade them in front of us with a spark in his eye, inviting the chase, daring us to catch him.

These memories, small and sacred, are all I have now. I can still feel the weight of him as he took his last breath in my lap. That moment replays over and over, and I don’t yet know how to live in a world where he doesn’t exist. He was my heartbeat at my feet. My better days, and even my hardest ones, were made softer by his presence.

To anyone reading this—please hold your dogs a little tighter tonight. Give them that extra treat, that longer walk, that five more minutes of fetch. Because if there’s one thing Ozzy taught me, it’s that love never feels like enough when time runs out.

Rest easy, my sweet boy. You were the best part of me. And though you’re gone, you’ll never, ever be forgotten.Forever my sunshine. Forever my best friend.