In about 24 hours, my dog, Beckett Longdog Woodmill, will go to sleep for the last time.
16 years ago, when she was still a puppy who looked like this, she saved my life from a house fire. I wish I had taken more pictures of her back then, but it wasn't as easy as it is today.
As soon as I moved in for the first time with my then-girlfriend, now wife, we got a dog. She was a rescue dog from the SPCA, and whenever anybody asks us what type of dog she is we tell them she's a Baltimore Brown.
Beckett lived with us through the great Baltimore blizzard of 2003.
Back in those days, she was a very fast runner.
She was an enthusiastic head tilter.
She had a funny way of eating spaghetti, and we'd always feed her some to watch her enthusiastically chomp some down.
I was very nervous to bring our first child into our house, worried that she'd be jealous. I didn't need to have worried, she was always kind and respectful to them, and loved to eat the snacks they threw on the floor.
In her old age, she turned grey.
Until she was about 15 years old, she knew that she was not allowed on the furniture. After that, she decided she was old enough to lay on the couch, and we all agreed that was pretty fair. She could be found on her couch almost all the time the last few years.
My wife and I are incredibly grateful to have had such a long time with such a good dog. The world will be poorer for her absence, and we will miss her terribly.