Dear Thunder,
You are one of my favorite stories to tell.
The day our yellow Lab, Buddy, passed away after 15 years of loving us every single day, my heart was shattered. That very same day, in my little studio apartment in El Paso, my neighbor — who already had three dogs of his own — showed up at my door with a tiny 12-week-old puppy in his arms. He asked if I could watch you overnight so he could take you to the vet in the morning to see if anyone had claimed you.
Honestly, Thunder, I thought he borrowed someone’s puppy just to make me feel better. I didn’t have a crate, a plan, or even space… but I reluctantly agreed. You roamed freely that night, and in the morning I woke up to you pooping under the fan, staring right at me like you were saying, “Well? What now?”
All I could think was, “Nope. I’m taking you to the vet myself — I do NOT want a puppy.”
At the vet, I told the story of Buddy passing during the night. The vet looked at me, then at you, and said gently,
“Buddy sent you a friend.”
Even people in the waiting room started to cry. Somehow, everyone else saw it before I did.
I still wasn’t convinced. I got your shots done, planning to find you another home. Every time the vet asked what your name was, I would reply, “He’s not my dog.”
But then one day, I took you to the pet store to buy you a collar — because even if you weren’t “my dog,” you deserved that. A stranger approached me and offered to buy you. I found it strange… because I hadn’t said a word to anyone about needing a home for you.
I remember picking you up in my arms, holding you close, and thinking,
“No one will ever take care of you like I can.”
And in that moment, I knew. You were mine.
From there, our journey unfolded.
You were stubborn, untrainable, independent, and always doing things your own way — just like me. Maybe that’s why we fit together so perfectly. You weren’t just a pet; you were my companion. My adventure buddy. My mirror in so many ways.
We traveled state to state, stayed in hotels, went camping, visited beaches and dog parks — things I had never done with any other pet. You and I just had that connection, that unspoken understanding that we were meant to walk through life together for as long as we could.
The day I had to take you to emergency and say goodbye was one of the hardest days of my life. People say you eventually get over the loss, but I’m not sure that’s true. You learn to move forward, yes… but some love leaves a permanent imprint.
I promised myself I would honor you by adopting older dogs — the ones who suddenly find themselves needing a home later in life, unsure of why everything changed. They deserve a real chance, a soft landing, and a love-filled life, however long they have. Your memory guides me now, as I care for Breeze and all of Breeze’s Street Friends. You’re the one who reminds us what love, kindness, second chances, and quiet strength truly look like.
I know you’re on the Rainbow Bridge now, in good company, getting plenty of wisdom and maybe giving some too. Thank you for revealing the better parts of me. Thank you for showing up when my heart needed you most.
You will always be my Thunder.
Love,
Pam
