A warm December fire-lit night, in cozy oranges and yellows. Watching cartoons as the warmth is broken. Dad hauls in with new warmth. A baby pup. Yellow and soft, matching the night perfectly. The addition to our family. The perfect pet. A friend for our friend. Frosty we’ll name him because his fur is like the snow that's sparkling outside. He fits right in with my loving family.
Young love grows, stitching itself into our family. Puppy breath, blanketed cuddles, family dinner.

But soon growing pains begin. Tiny ball of fur turns into a 70-pound hound. December turns into august and 2009 turns to 2019.
Two dogs sit by the window of a different house than they both began in. Four hundred and twenty-five miles intersect that warm loving house and our new brittle house. There is little warmth left. It was a hard move but I’ll be alright, everything is the same just in a new, colder area. But hey!, that's fine I like the cold and so does Frosty. Other dog, sweet old teddy doesn’t like it as much. He sits and watches by the balcony window… on that same striped rug. It was warmer for him there. That's the last place I can think that I saw dear teddy, teddy who has been there even before I came into this world. He left with the rest of the things from that far away 2009 December.
Everything is alright though because of loving Frosty. He loves us and mourns with us for his friend.
Teddys the first to start the changing climate in our household and our lives. But mom, dad, and my brothers are here so it's alright. Until they aren’t. It's kind of sad Frosty isn’t as small as he used to be but alas that was a long time ago and his hanging hair is starting to get a bit of frost himself.
It's been a while since we moved here. A couple of years. Another pup has been brought into the home. Named cocoa after the darkened spots in his white fur. Not that I’ll be able to keep him much longer. Or frosty. I think we get to move away from the brittle cold. But no it's not away. It just gets colder. My time with frosty is coming to an end. Too soon. On our last night, I see his sad smile. He knows. He sleeps in my room and I read him stories, pages wrinkled. Morning comes too soon. Everything ends, the pains, the joys. It all vanishes along with Frosty in the back of that random truck. Why do we trust the gray ugly truck with our most precious item?
Good things, good times come to an end. Buts endings mean new beginnings. Frosty and I will be alright.