Before there was Mojo snorting at my side, before the late-night cuddles and watchdog duties, there was Biggie.
My Biggie Boy.
Biggie wasn’t just a dog. He was my best friend, my anchor, and in many ways, my first real lifeline. He was strong enough to carry me when I couldn’t carry myself — and I mean that literally. If I wasn’t doing good, if I was weak or unsteady, Biggie would plant himself beside me, this massive American Bulldog wall of strength, letting me lean into him until I found my footing again.
My First Gift
Biggie was the first gift my husband ever gave me. Not flowers, not jewelry, not some cliché — but Biggie. A dog so full of love and loyalty that he became the greatest gift of my life. From that very first day, it wasn’t just that I loved him. It was that I needed him. He saved me long before I even knew how badly I’d need saving.
Biggie and Everyone Else
It wasn’t just me who adored him. Everyone did. Biggie had this presence about him. People would meet him once and remember him forever. Kids loved him, strangers loved him, anyone who crossed his path seemed to fall under his spell. He was big and strong, but also gentle in a way that made everyone feel safe.
He was magnetic. He was unforgettable. He was Biggie Boy.
When Cancer Came
And when cancer entered my life, Biggie never wavered. He didn’t need explanations or updates, didn’t care about test results or medical jargon. He just knew when I hurt. He knew when I was scared.
When Pete shaved my head after the chemo started, Biggie was there the whole time. He kept nudging me, pressing his giant head against me, his eyes steady and soft like he was telling me, “You’re still you. You’re still loved. You’re still mine.”
That day could have been one of my ugliest memories, but it isn’t. Because when I replay it, I see Biggie right there, keeping me from falling apart.
Biggie and Mojo
By the time Mojo came along, Biggie was already an old soul. But he didn’t push him away. He welcomed him. Biggie let Mojo follow him around, let him crawl all over him, let him learn.
Looking back, I think Biggie was preparing him. Teaching him how to take care of me. How to stay close when I hurt, how to sit still when I can’t move, how to make me laugh even when I don’t want to.
Mojo adored Biggie — and I know he misses him, too. Sometimes I see Mojo looking at the spots where Biggie used to lay, and it guts me. But it also comforts me, because it means Mojo remembers. He carries Biggie with him just like I do.
The Forever Dog
When Biggie died, my heart broke in a way I can’t fully explain. There are some goodbyes you never recover from. Losing him was one of mine.
I still catch myself reaching for him sometimes — expecting his big head to be there, waiting for my hand, waiting to steady me. I’ll roll over in bed and half expect him to be sprawled across the floor, breathing heavy in that way that was always oddly comforting.
He’s not here, but I still feel him everywhere.
Because Biggie didn’t just save me once. He saved me over and over again. Every time I thought I couldn’t go on, every time I felt too weak, every time I thought the darkness might swallow me whole — he was there. Biggie Boy pulled me back. He gave me reasons to stay.
The Waiting Place
I know he’s waiting for me. Somewhere beyond this life, in a place where pain doesn’t exist, where sickness doesn’t touch you, where love stays pure and whole. And I know, when it’s my time, my Biggie Boy will be there — running toward me, just like he always did.
Until then, I carry him in everything. In the way Mojo curls into me when I hurt. In the way strangers still talk about how special he was. In the way my heart aches and softens all at once when I say his name.
Before Mojo, there was Biggie.
And because of Biggie, I learned that love doesn’t end when a heartbeat does.
He was my first gift, my best friend, my protector, my Biggie Boy.
And he’ll be my forever dog.
PS: Hug your pets a little tighter tonight. Love them big while you can. And if you’ve had a “forever dog” of your own, I’d love if you shared their story — because those kinds of loves deserve to be remembered, over and over again. 💙
Leave a reply to mshibdonssciencelab Cancel reply