I adopted him at 7 months old in 2012. At 3 months old he had been brought from a kill shelter in the SE and adopted, but he was returned only a couple months later with injuries. He had severe separation anxiety and injuries to his tail and lower back. Nevertheless, he formed a deep bond with me and I grew to know what a big heart and fun-loving spirit he had. In 2020 I lost my job and housing and he had to stay with friends for two years while I worked to get back to a position where I could give him the life he deserved. We both struggled a great deal with the separation, and getting him back was one of most amazing things I have ever experienced. Reunited with me, he was able to regain his appetite, ability to tolerate car rides, and openness to meeting new people and dogs. I never stopped treasuring all of the time I had with him after getting Puck back. I was extremely close with him. He was my first dog and the first time I went through the death of a pet. For the last 2.5 years of his life he hiked with me every single day. For his whole life he slept cuddled up against me. In the last year of his life, he cuddled with my grandma on her death bed, offering her the physical affection that had been absent from her life for decades. He stayed loyally by her side for hours and we have photos of him lovingly looking up into her face. I will always remember him and his deep love and hilarious quirks. He had brain cancer for the last 1.5 years of his life and I learned so, so much about love and commitment and fragility while caring for him during this time.