I used to like dogs before I met this one. Man’s best friend was always man for me, until Lumos.

I now mourn for the absence of this canine as I imagine I similarly would mourn the loss of my own son or little brother. I sound crazy. What’s worse is that I only met this dog 2 weeks ago…

My wife had made it clear that she wanted dogs to be a part of our daily lives. I did not object, and actually was looking forward to having an experienced dog-aficionado initiate me into the world of pet ownership. To get our (my) feet wet, we decided that fostering animals would be a great place to start for us and so kept an open-mind when we went to visit puppy shelters.

One day it hit me (an adorable puppy photo from a local rescue), I was ready to foster. We got in the car and went to find the dog behind that cute pic. He didn’t have a name when we called the shelter, but by the time we pulled up in the parking lot, his name became Blake. He was your typical innocent sweetie that you’d find posing unassumingly in a family lifestyle catalog and who surprisingly did not bark. I thought that he’d be a great option to foster because he wasn’t cute enough of a puppy to fall for and was a lab mix that my wife had no particular attachment to, breed-wise.

He was so quiet and reserved that I wondered if he was sick. Maybe he had been beaten in a prior life. He eventually got comfortable enough to pee upstairs. He didn’t sleep the first night and pooped his cage. We were knee-deep in this fostering business. We began to call him Lumos because he reminded my wife of those balls of innocent light that Harry Potter characters would conjure to find the bathroom at night. And so our evening outings went, until eventually I became a deranged muggle on a pee spree with Lumos, conjuring him in the middle of the night, “Lumos… Lumos… LUMOS!”

He caught on quick for where not to poop and pee, and I was impressed that he could hold it when I was busy writing my blog posts (I figured out that his affection for me was a strategy for relieving himself — not gratitude for hosting him). We took him kayaking down a wide and smooth gator-populated river to check off a bucket list item. He stayed put and calm for the 60-minute card ride, not even a peep, and kept his contemplative composure in the kayak as we paddled for over 2 hours. Who was this spirit? Was it an old man trapped in a puppy’s body? Glad we could get him out to see the world a bit.

During our muggle night strolls, I began to speak to him. We shared our enthusiasm for pooping in people’s yards, but I explained that it wasn’t ok for a man to do that in society without a good reason. He held that thought, until defecating on that. He had a sense of humor, too? My wife thought dogs didn’t have one. Yea, well maybe for most dogs, but Lumos is retired Dumbledog stuck in a yellow dog’s shape and either forgot his “undo” spell or liked our muggle talks.

He would express disapproving whimpers when I would get the mail without his company or go poop in toilets or when we got groceries without him. He truly had a fear of missing out. The only qualm I have for Lumos is that he didn’t appreciate surprises. When my wife brought him an excellently plush and stylish dog bed he pretended to be disgusted by it and did everything possible to not use it when we put it in his cage. He barked at the foreign bed that night in frustration. But the next morning, he was adrift in the same bed before I startled him back to his senses. He tilted his head and looked at me, “you know I just tripped into that thing, right?” It was starting to feel like a home.

The same day he lost his vote in the gene pool, he was quite industrious, repurposing neglected cardboard boxes as toys for the needy (him) and developing a self-loving vanity in front of the camera. His resilience after the cut, was inspiring. He was not disheartened in the slightest, there was pure optimism in his gait. Here I was ready to fill his bowl with Jack Dogiel’s to get him through. His spirit was intact, the same old dog before the snip.

Randomly, when we got a phone call concerning an interest in adopting Lumos, I was painfully reminded that it might be time to let him go… when I stood my ground for our logical adoption of Lumos, my wife soothed me into reason. We were a foster family, and that is all that we could ever be for Lumos. I knew Lumos wouldn’t get a chance to be consulted on this one, and I didn’t want to see the look on his face when he found out.

It was time to ease my grip on our relationship. I had to catch myself and refrain when I would edge towards a deep conversation, it was best that I kept it to small talk when I’d take him out to pee. Instead of wrestling with him in the living room, I gave him a bone to bond with. My tactics were subtle, I’d take a step back when he’d take a step forward. I never brought it up in the open; he eventually stopped taking a step forward. Things got to the point where my wife would take him out instead of me in the morning, and I’d excuse myself with a busy schedule. He was just a dog.

But then my wife caught on to half of the act and asked me to step it up with the chores, including pitching in on the remaining walks Lumos had with us. I was being a coward because I couldn’t deal with how I had come to love that dog. After the phone call seared my heart, there was no denying that I’d grown inadvertently crazy for my new best friend. The only way I saw to deal with the strong attachment I had, was to gradually loosen my grip before he was taken from me.

As the end drew near, I found it in me to have a muggle morning stroll with him. This time, he seemed excited to see me for me. I took him outside and as we walked he stayed close enough that I could’ve let go of his leash, as if he knew it was our last time together strolling through the morning dew. But I had to believe he was clueless, that I was alone in my sadness. He checked on all the neighbors’ unattended feces and then paused to look up at the sun, it sure was a nice day.

Later that day we took him out to socialize for the first time at a dog park. He was cautious and prudent as he was introduced to the other kids, and was politely playful but kept up decent appearances. He wouldn’t play with them like he would with me. In fact, when the others started really going at it, he would remember us and come check in with me before joining. He was a loyal friend.

At some point he brought a friend over to us to introduce us, maybe he thought we’d adopt him too. There was a moment while they played where I saw Lumos light up, and then he looked over at us to make sure we were a part of that moment, he was happy. I was sad. But he didn’t need to know that. He slept through the whole last night through in his favorite bed.

My wife walked him that last morning, and fed him too. We took him to the shelter, put him in a cage, said goodbye as though we were going to go get groceries for an hour and be right back. Lumos looked up at me and begged, “Le’s do it now. Le’s adopt me right now.” I comforted him, “Sure, right now.”

And we left him thinking we’d be back. Your happiest days are ahead of you, dear friend. I will never forget you yellow dog.