You were always there after my late night jogs, when I'm the only person downstairs and I'm sitting by the door; sweat mixed with tears, irregular breathing, exhausting myself as far as I can go to overcome the insomnia. I would hear the sound of the chain of your collar rushing towards me the second you hear the legs of the chair scratch against the tiles. You always knew how to differentiate how I was doing. On regular days you would come with a ball in your mouth and drop it right infront of my feet, trying to prop your head under my neck. And at times like these, you would naturally walk a little slower towards me. You would stand right infront of me, letting me pat your fur and rest my arms on your back until my song ended. When I stare out blankly too much, you would put your head on my lap, almost like a reminder to snap out of it.

I would come downstairs at 2 or 3 in the morning, just to read a story or get a glass of water, when I get the most lonely. I would walk down the stairs and hear you jolt up from your sleeping position at the main door and you would run to the glass door peering straight towards the kitchen, because you knew that's the first place I would usually go to. You would just look at me, and I would look back. You would then lie down, eyes locked on me the whole time as I read under the kitchen light, eyes locked on me until you fell asleep at the door. I get scared very easily, and open spaces with many windows just like my hall would usually scare me at those times of the morning. But you always seemed to know. You would pick up on why I was down here when on most occasions I would refrain from doing so. I would come down when the loneliness gets too much, when the air in my room gets too silent and sensitive. I would come down because I knew you would be there, making sure I was safe, making sure that I would see you from where I sat. You never liked it when I was on my own.

It's something that I don't want to get used to. Now that you're not here, I'm giving myself the leniency to do as I wish. I sit outside a little longer now that you're not around to snap me out of it. I stay in my room, letting myself get washed over by everything that is silent and sensitive. I've never talked about it to anybody, but you always gave me the impression that you understood. It's different with a pet. They don't flood you with 'are you okay's, they can't (and maybe he's up there feeling happy about that because he should know that I hate answering that question the most). They're just genuinely there for you, they're there for you in complete silence and out of complete love. They don't expect anything, they don't try to make you guilty for feeling, they don't leave you hanging. Not at all, you were always there.

I wish you were here right now, Hunter, I really miss resting my head on your fur and holding your paw because it was squishy and that was really therapeutic for me. I miss making you happy, I miss seeing how your eyes light up when I walk through the gate and I miss seeing how you always try when I'm like this. I miss you so, so much. All of us do. You left a really big void here at home, you know that? Dad still wishes your paw print good morning, it keeps him going, he's going through a whole right now and if I found solace in you, what he had with you is beyond words.

Things are getting so tough, but it's okay, I knew you never liked sensing tension. You may not be around to butt in and lick all our toes under the kitchen table now to lighten things up, but I'll keep the whole scenario in mind, I think that would help.

Anyway, I hope you're running around enough up there in heaven, it won't hurt anymore so run as much as you want. Bark as loud as you want and scare all the other little dogs, you have enough energy now, there's no need to hold back. You're back to being healthier than you've ever been, you must feel so much happier now. Don't worry, I won't sit outside for too long at night or scare myself by coming downstairs when it's too late, you trained me as well as we trained you.

Goodnight, Hunter boy.