moose

His name was Moose and he was never really ours; not for a long time anyway.

Moose was like a guest that became a friend, but always, in his own way- to me at least- remained a guest. But one that we loved and cared for a great deal; even if a great deal of it was at a distance, from afar.

Rest well dear Moosey, for even if your name is no longer so and you probably speak better mandarin than I do, we love you. In my world, all dogs go to heaven...

*ruff*