My beloved Finn passed at the ripe old age of 14 because his heart got too big. He was the most beautiful, polite, happy, charming, expressive, loving boy. He stopped to smell flowers. He ate blueberries straight off the bush. He circumvented mud puddles and piles of poop. He would only (loud) bark at bizarre things like striking a match, counting, and the word "whisk". He had these eyes that really saw you. He forced presence into you.

I've never experienced adulthood without him, and I'm lost. He was my baby boy. He was my home. He was loved with intensity, and has claimed the hearts of many. I'm grateful for all the hikes, ball-tosses, failed bike trailer adventures, herding, laughs, snuggles, silent conversations, and time.