I found Leo after a snowstorm, just three weeks old, curled in a salt hole on the sidewalk with his back legs limp but his eyes alive. I brought him home, gave him therapy, and watched him learn to walk again. From that moment on, he was mine, and I was his.

He grew into a big boy with a survivor’s hunger, always sitting to receive his meals like a king. He hated being held too long, he would burry himself in my hair to sleep, like it was his blanket and his territory.

Leo’s yellow eyes, tiger nose, and raccoon-striped fur made him look wild, but to me he was softness, loyalty, and love. Seven years wasn’t enough, but his heart gave me everything it could.

He didn’t leave unloved. He left cherished.
And even now, I feel him with me. Some bonds don’t end. They just change shape.

See you over the bridge my Leo.