February 12, 2026

My beloved Spartacus,

Five months! Only five moons since you crossed beyond my sight, yet you have not become distant. You have simply moved inward. Some mornings I still wake with the instinct to look for you—at the door, by my feet, in that quiet place where your steady presence once anchored my days. And often, you come in my dreams. We walk together as we used to—no drama, no goodbye—just your calm rhythm beside mine. I wake with a softness that feels like a visitation.

Today, on your fifth month anniversary, I don’t only miss you. I bow to you.

You carried a stillness that could settle storms in me without effort. You were never loud about your strength. You embodied it. Even now, when life grows noisy, I find myself asking, What would Sparty do? And the answer rises gently—pause, observe, respond with dignity.

And then there is Zephyrus. What a contrast you would find him to be!

Where you were composed, he is excessively jumpy—startled by leaves, thrilled by shadows, convinced the universe is perpetually calling his name. Where you were choosy and discerning about food—sniffing, evaluating, sometimes rejecting with royal authority—Zephy is a passionate foodie. If it’s edible, it’s a celebration. And those long, purposeful walks you loved? Zephy approaches them like a negotiator seeking reduced hours. A bit lazy, our boy.

And yet, when he looks up with those bright, eager eyes—so full of innocence and unquestioning devotion—I sometimes smile and think, Sparty, meet Zephy. I imagine you watching him with that calm, knowing gaze of yours.

Zen misses you too. Your buddy in walks and trails and silent companionship—there are moments on familiar paths when he pauses, as if expecting you to appear from behind a tree or crest the bend ahead. The air still carries your shared rhythm.

The website is shaping now, my brave one. In a couple of weeks, it should be ready. What began in grief is becoming structure and offering. Your paws have become purpose. Your quiet teachings are finding form in the world.

Five months have softened the sharp edges of loss. Grief is no longer only ache; it is depth. It is love adjusting to a new address. If you visit tonight, linger a little. Walk with us again in that silent field where there is no separation.

You are not gone. You are woven into my steps, my work, my becoming.

Run there gently, my calm warrior. Lots of love and hugs!

Dad…