We laid our beloved Woodson in the ground at the height of the coronavirus pandemic, August 2020. Like all people who allow dogs into their lives and their hearts, we grieved. Quietly and privately, in big waves and in little moments. Some days I would call out, “Going out for a little walk,” but my destination was a beeline to that spot past the barn and under the big oak tree where our former child movie star lay beneath three feet of Pennsylvania earth. It just felt comforting to stand there with him.

But by the fall of that year, we were itching for a puppy to bring home, not just to fill the void in our lives but in Wallace’s life, too. Since the loss of his lifelong companion, our aging Lab had grown lethargic, lazy, dare I say depressed? He greeted each morning with a sort of stoic sadness that kind of broke our hearts like shattered porcelain. And so in mid-November we made the three-hour drive to Endless Mountain Labradors, a family breeder in north-central Pennsylvania, and returned home with the newest member of our canine clan, and arguably the most magnificent: Louie. He quickly grew to 101 pounds of rippling muscle, so powerful he accidentally sent both Jenny and me to emergency rooms with sprains and bruises. But even when he was still a tiny pup, he displayed big-dog alpha confidence. Fearless from the start, he soon convinced 10-year-old Wallace that there was a new sheriff in town, and our beta senior boy would quietly slink away and give up his food bowl to the new interloper. We put a quick end to that, but the die was cast and even as they became inseparable it was with a mutual agreement on the new pecking order. Louie, as they say, is a lot of dog. He is also a joy and a goofball and a wonderful companion, seldom letting us out of his sight. Welcome to the family, Louie.