Fifteen Years
A Tiny Kingdom story about a love that stayed
His fur is softer now,
and his steps have slowed,
but his joy still fills the room,
just as it always has.
I remember when he was tiny,
the smallest puppy I'd ever held.
I called him Donder,
after the Dutch word dondersteen—
a rascal, a mischief-maker.
And he lived up to it,
chasing leaves, stealing socks,
turning every moment into something brighter.
He was my light
in the darkest times,
his tail wagging through storms
I thought I couldn't weather.
Even now,
as the years catch up to him,
he is still the best of me,
my sweetest love,
the little one who made everything better
just by being here.
How do you measure love like that?
You don't.
You simply hold it close,
grateful for every moment,
every wag, every glance,
every fifteen beautiful years.