Mylo on a walk in Chico. (Image: Kathryn Reed)

I wasn’t ready for another dog after AJ’s death nearly three years ago. I’m still not.

But something happened. That something was Mylo. He had been part of the family for 14 years, so it’s not like he was new to my life.

Mylo was adopted from the shelter at age 3. Mom and my sister, Jann, shared custody. I saw him on occasion. A definite cutey with his overbite, black and white coloring, and little legs.

I liked him well enough when I would visit. He even came to Tahoe once, where AJ introduced him to swimming at Lake Tahoe.

Mylo isn’t ready to leave Lake Tahoe as AJ heads for shore. (Image: Kathryn Reed)

Moving to Chico meant he would be a bigger part of my life. He and AJ lived peacefully together at times—both old, both pretty much ignoring the other.

Then when mom and Jann were out of town at the same time Mylo would occasionally become my sole responsibility. We went on walks, cooled off in Big Chico Creek, got a couple pup cups.

I would get on the floor and rough house with him. His growl made me laugh. He was quite the character.

Mylo loved car rides. (Image: Kathryn Reed)

After AJ died, Mylo adopted her blanket and space in my office behind my chair. He’s the only dog who has ever been in my new car.

Mylo’s body finally gave out. He crossed the Rainbow Bridge on Jan. 4, four days after turning 17.

I never expected him to crawl into my heart the way he did; to leave a big pawprint on my life. I’m still crying.