We said goodbye to Sidney the dog this week.

He was a good boy.

He did not always do good things. But he was a very good boy.

He sometimes drove you guys crazy. Alex always wanted him out of the way and demanded the pup stay off his bed. Owen was terrified that every scrap of food on your plate would be eaten by the fluffy white vacuum cleaner.

You sometimes drove him crazy. He hid away on the couch or a chair. He was not fond of your version of “petting” (which an outside observer might call, “grabbing”). And you took up way too much of his humans’ attention for his liking. Maybe that’s why he stole your food and peed near your rooms.

But still, he was our dog. Before you were here, we helped him overcome his fear of…well…everything. Noises, people who looked at him, people who didn’t look at him, cars, bikes, bigger dogs, smaller dogs, everything. We took him into our home and for ten years we walked him, fed him, and cleaned up after him.

Some people call their pets “fur babies” as if the distinction between Sidney and you was his hairiness. Others mock pet owners, wondering how people can spend time, energy, and resources caring for a little animal in the face of serious inequalities, injustices and needs among our fellow human beings.

The truth, as I see it, is in between.

Caring for Sidney is nothing like caring for you boys. (I mean, I tried to put your food in a bowl, but you kept asking to be held and given a bottle instead. NOTE–I never did that, it was written for comic effect). The love I have for Sid isn’t the love I have for you. It’s not better or worse, less or more, it’s just different.

And loving Sid hasn’t made me less able to care for others. Love isn’t a finite resource, and if we dissect every cent spent or minute used, we miss out on the longer arc.

Sidney reminded me every day: it’s not always about the big things, and it’s not always about the little things. Just like soccer isn’t just about one trophy nor about one missed pass. It’s about connection to and love for what’s at hand.

Your grandpa sent me a note saying, “what is grief, but love persevering.” To be fair, he stole that from a TV show about superpowered people, but the principle remains valid. I’ll be sad he’s gone, but that’s because I’ve loved having him.

You may never remember him. You may remember not liking him. But I’ll remember him standing guard as your feeble baby bodies first took in this great wide world. I’ll remember him standing (and often, sleeping) beside you as if to say: “welcome to the pack, I’m here for you…and your food.”

What will persevere for me, long from now, is the fact that I felt love around Sidney. That love, the ability to care deeply about another thing, is so important. You might have been a little too young to feel it for Sidney, but trust me when I tell you: love is the thing that lasts.