In 2013, Farrah wasn’t searching for anything—at least not anything with fur, brown eyes, and a howl that could crack open the sky. But fate has a way of placing the right soul in your path long before you know you need it.

His name was Blaze.

A Husky–German Shepherd mix with the spirit of a wild wanderer and the heart of an old soul, Blaze walked into her life like he had always belonged there. She didn’t choose him—not really. Blaze chose her.

From the moment they met, he became her shadow. If she turned, he was there. If she cried, he nudged her hand. If she laughed, he danced around her feet with a joy that made the whole world brighter. Blaze didn’t just follow—he understood.

He stayed by her through heartbreaks—the kind that leave a person hollow. When the girl felt shattered, Blaze pressed against her, his warm weight anchoring her back to the world. His presence stitched her back together, piece by piece.

When she packed up her life and crossed state lines in search of something better, Blaze didn’t question it. He jumped into the car, sat tall in the passenger seat, and treated the long road ahead like an adventure meant just for them.

Together, they traveled—wind in his fur, music in her chest, endless miles of growing and healing shared between them.

When she met the man she would marry, Blaze watched him with wise suspicion at first. But soon enough, he approved—leaning his full weight onto the man and sighing, as if saying, Alright. He can stay.

Blaze was there through every milestone—weddings, moves, late-night worries, morning coffees. And when she became a mother, Blaze transformed yet again.

He sat and kissed her as each contraction started. He met the baby with a gentle nose boop, tail wagging low and slow, his gaze softening with an unspoken promise. Blaze appointed himself guardian of the tiny new life instantly with his fellow companion Panny.

For seven years, he helped raise her daughter. Blaze let little hands tug his fur, shared naps on the floor, stood watch during storms, and curled close during fevers. To the little girl, Blaze wasn’t just a dog—he was family. A protector. A brother. A constant.

Time passed, as it always does, but the memories they made collected like treasures:

-road trips with Blaze’s nose out the window
-quiet nights with him resting at her feet
-the sound of her daughter’s giggles as Blaze chased her and her friends out back.
-heartbreaks soothed by his steady presence
-triumphs made sweeter by his loyalty

Blaze entered her life in 2013 without warning, but his impact was deliberate, powerful, and forever. He saw her through every version of herself—girl, woman, wife, mother.

He wasn’t “just a dog.”

Blaze was her soulmate, long before she understood that soulmates come in many forms—sometimes with paws, mismatched eyes, and a heart big enough to shape the course of a life.