O Dear Max. How I miss our day of conspicuous barking at passers-by. How I miss how you so lovingly stayed in your spot on my Anthropologie quilt while I wrote in my journal. Such a good dog. How I miss stroking your creamy, white, ceramic fur. How I miss staring into your glossy, black paint-peeled eyes. How I miss how you so narrowly missed the Frisbee which I threw at your permanently open mouth. Dear, dear Max. May you rest in peace.
With all my everlovin' heart,
that crazy lady that found you in a closet Nielson
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