For Shylo

In December 2012, my parents left at half-time of my basketball game, and I came home to—surprise! A newly adopted puppy named Shylo.

Back at the game, my parents started talking with the owner of the local dog kennel Critter Sitters; Jamie said they had a perfect dog for us—a one-year-old cavashon who’s previous parents had to give her up to go into assisted living. She was about 30 pounds, with white curly fur, big eyes, and a button nose. My mom left to “go take a look,” and the rest was history.

When my dad tells the story, he loves to embellish that a couple days later, my mom had to return to her grad school program—seven hours away in Santa Fe. Leaving the new addition to the household with my dad and I. (The fact my mom would return every weekend got a little lost in the anecdote.)

My dad tends to play up the “dog I didn’t want” angle, though it quickly became obvious that Shylo, a lover to all, was very much a daddy’s girl.

Since that wonderful and surprising December, Shylo has been such a huge part of my life, and a defining piece of—and connection to—home.

Back then, I was a senior in high school, fighting the most extreme loneliness I’ve ever known. My boyfriend had left for college four hours away, most of my friends had graduated from high school, my mom was at school, my brother had recently moved across the country, and I was deciding whether or not to give up on my childhood dream of playing college softball, and feeling scared of the subsequent consequences of disappointment in that decision.

Enter: Shylo. This white ball of floof was exactly what I needed. She stole my socks, snuck into my trash can, found her way under my hand whenever I sat still. She panted at me expectantly, laid against me, and used her expressive face to gleam as many treats as possible. It was a little less quiet, in the house and in my heart. She was my buddy, she was my girl.

Before Shylo came into the picture, my now-husband was my then-boyfriend, and he had a stone-faced resolution that he would never own a dog. Shylo, slowly and surely, won him over. She warmed her way into his heart, softening him over time. She was the first dog Chad loved. Without Shylo, there’d be no Wally. To me, Shylo was a passage for one of the deepest sources of love and connection in our lives, and I am so thankful that her sweet persistence carved the path to his heart.

Over the years, my time spent with Shylo decreased. Going to college, getting married, and moving away created the natural distance that comes with growing up. But as I crossed the threshold into adulthood, Shylo remained a sweet connection to home.

Shylo was there during our wedding planning weekends, where we’d gather supplies, assemble decorations, and settle into an episode of Game of Thrones with my parents. She was there through the loss of my two childhood dogs. Her begs were heard three hours before mealtime, an attempt to tug at my heartstrings when I’d come to housesit for a week at a time while my parents traveled the world.

She was a welcome sight at our townhouse during the pandemic after months apart, exploring our back yard. When we went to pick up Wally, Shylo was there. Her exploits as a trash connoisseur and occasional neighborhood explorer were well documented in the family group chat. Shylo was one of the first guests at the first home we bought, and then again in Milwaukee. She was my poolside confidant, hunting down lizards while I swam. Little kids loved her—my nieces, nephews gathering around for hugs. She was my backseat companion on road trips, where my dad called out “toes!” every time her feet crossed the middle console too far. I used to joke about cloning her, because there’s never been a dog quite like her.

Shylo passed away on February 4, 2025, 12 years after my parents brought her home. While I’m so thankful for every single moment, I’m devastated. I’m heartbroken to imagine a world without her. If I’m being honest, I can’t even believe that she’s not here anymore, and my spirit cracks knowing I’ll never see her again.

Shylo, I love you so much, and I always will. Thank you for being Boo Boo’s girl.

---