Booger didn’t just live in our house—she was our home. And our house will never be a home again without her in it. At just five pounds, she was a girl who really knew how to take up space—in our bed, where she burrowed under the covers and slept with her head beside ours on the pillow; on the streets, where her shrill bark startled people blocks away; and most of all, in our hearts, which are completely shattered.

Booger lived the same way she barked—loudly, unapologetically, and with her whole body. She barked at doorbells, squirrels, birds, planes (which do look like birds), most children, and sometimes even a rogue yard sign. She knew how to leave an impression. At cafes, she often hid under a table—our tiny bridge troll—ready to ambush those who dared pass. She barked at every repair person, she barked when we backed out of the garage, and she barked when we answered a phone call to speak with anyone other than her.

When we dared to take our time while tearing apart her croissant into bite-sized pieces (her favorite was from Starbucks and she refused to share) she kindly barked in our face… “humans, make haste!” We were better parents than “dog trainers,” but when she charged full speed at a bird (outrunning us both), then turned around with a tongue-out smile as though asking, “aren’t you so proud of me?” Well, of course we were!! It was chaos. It was perfect. She was perfect.

Booger had many rituals. She loved a “W” word, always preceded by a warm-up walk: leash clipped to the door handle before pacing back and forth. She was always ready to go—leaping into her carrier bag with a single sharp bark as to alert the troops that it was time to battle the adventures of outside. Booger proudly carried her leash in her mouth, tiny bottom teeth exposed, marching like a little general. Her “circle button” spin signaled her demand to be carried downstairs (always clockwise, often in a single jump). Booger adored a late-night McDonald’s fry run, a medium-rare steak, and the all too frequent grilled chicken breast from Mi Cocina.

She had great taste—claiming the first Barefoot Dreams blanket so completely that we had to buy a second. Boog frequently went shopping for toys in her little basket, but not before digging and scratching vigorously at the basket itself. She had a funny habit of tossing a rediscovered toy in one of her many canopy beds, then flipping the bed over WWE-style, like Booger “The Bear” Robertson. We’ll never forget her one true love, “the octoplegic octopus,” or that baguette with the obnoxious squeaker.

Adorned with a crooked pony tail, Booger always found ways to remove her bow. She was a nudist at heart and hated clothes. However, she loved her jewelry—demanding to be dressed with her collar after the dreaded bath. While she had zero interest in pageantry, she inspired plenty of pageant girls to find their own inner Big Strong Girl.

And then there are the things she reserved just for us. The way she burrowed into the bed and under the covers. Often curled on top of our legs. The soft snores heard from the closet after she pushed her way in to nap on Taylor’s robe. The way she sneezed with her whole body. How she made us learn to type one-handed because the other was occupied with head and belly scratches. She had many names including the original Tallulah Jayne Mills, which quickly became Booger, Boog, The Booger Bear, Boogie, Boogs Bunny, and tolerated the many songs we sung about her and to her.

Booger loved life her way. She lived for hikes (who knew OUR baby would be an athlete?!) and inhaled breakfast tacos at the Omni Barton Creek where we frequently spent long weekends… just for Booger. She was creative and persistent. We recently bought a new bed just to keep her safe from attempting to rescue toys from impossible to reach places. We were not as successful when it came to keeping her peanut butter bones out of the couch cushions.

She was independent, anything but subtle, and clearly possessed leadership skills—I’m certain she led at least a medium-sized country in a previous life. She was the queen of long walks through Flippen Park (which we always called “Booger Park”) and loved exploring the new Lakeside Park bridge to the Booger (Teddy) Bear Gardens. Booger enjoyed our local parks almost as much as she enjoyed peeing in them (and if you live near Lomo Alto—sorry out loud about those spots where your grass will never be green again).

For such a tiny dog, she occupied an extraordinary amount of mental, emotional, and oddly even physical space. Soon we hope that her memory will occupy a bench-sized space in one of her favorite parks. We are raising funds for a memorial park bench in honor of Booger, who provided unconditional love to us (and occasionally incited fear in others). “Booger's Bench” will be a space for people to sit, enjoy the simpler things in life, and be reminded of the great gift of true companionship.

If you are interested in contributing, we would be deeply grateful for your support in helping us honor Booger and other four-legged friends in this lasting way. Taylor and I will cover any remaining bench costs after fundraising. Any excess funds will go toward a Miss Texas scholarship through the Lone Star Education Foundation, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit.

Booger’s love wasn’t ordinary, and neither is this grief. Her presence was enormous, and now her absence is even bigger. Loved as deeply as we love each other—these were the best twelve years of our lives. We appreciate your support and prayers as we navigate the tremendous loss of her tremendous love.