1AM Thursday morning I get a knock on my door. It's my dad, and he's asking if the family dog is with me. I say no. He tells me she's missing and hurries off with a flashlight.

I get dressed, grab a couple flashlights and join my parents in the search. It doesn't take long before my dad says, "There's tons of blood. Scurrying track marks; she's gone."

I was stunned. That stupid little dog that's always barking indoors and hurting my ears, barking at nothing and barking at me when I wear odd outfits. That dog that leaves piles of shit on the lawn that I have to pick up before I mow. That dog that goes into the most annoying of attack modes and has to be locked in the other room when any of my sibling's dogs visit. With the weakest voice, my mom thanks me for helping before giving me a hug. We're both holding back tears. She slowly walks back to the house.

We trace the coyote tracks looking for remains. All we find are pools of blood soaked into the snow.

I'm never going to see the dog again and I'm choking up. Christmas 2024 was her last Christmas. The last time I pet her warm soft belly was two weeks ago after she saw me get home after a bike ride-- an unusual day when she was happy to see me. The last time I saw her was family dinner on Monday. It was just a regular day where she slurped water from her bowl and stared at me begging for a piece of chicken. It's over. That was the last time.

This dog that I didn't like much is dead, and yet I've been crying ever since. I wish I could have had some more time with her.