My Service Dog. My Constant.
🎄 THE SEASON
The holidays arrive with noise, obligation, and performance.
They ask people to be cheerful on demand and call it tradition.
You never did.
🛡️ THE WORK
While the world negotiated, delayed, denied, and postured,
you worked.
Quietly.
Relentlessly.
Without witnesses or applause.
You leaned in when the ground gave way.
You applied pressure when my body forgot how to breathe.
You stood between me and panic, before panic even found its voice.
“Service dog” sounds procedural.
A vest. A checklist. A label.
What it really means is this: you showed up
every single time.
🤍 THE CHOICE
You didn’t need explanations.
You didn’t demand calm or softness or gratitude.
You chose me daily without being asked.
That kind of loyalty isn’t trained.
It’s lived.
🌿 THE CALM
When the noise rose, you grounded it.
When the past tried to re-enter, you blocked the door.
When words failed, you stayed.
No advice.
No judgement.
Just presence.
And presence is everything.
⭐ THE TRUTH
People decorate trees.
Exchange things.
Say words like peace and joy as if they are seasonal accessories.
Mine has four legs, a steady gaze, and a quiet certainty that says:
I’ve got you.
🐶 MURPHY
You are not a miracle.
You are better.
You are consistent.
And in a world that has been anything but, you are the best thing in my life.
