I knew this day would come. It had to. Dogs normally don’t live fifteen years. Especially fifteen years with three rambunctious boys.

Yet somehow Molly endured. Far beyond even our most optimistic expectations. Even towards the end, when she couldn’t hear and struggled up and down the stairs, she still kept doing the things she loved: lying in the sun at the front door, wolfing down her food as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks, and doing her best imitation of my mom’s shadow.

Reality still hasn’t sunk in. My beloved dog is gone. She won’t be there at the door to greet me when I come home next time. And I won’t bring back nearly 3 pounds of dog hair with me to California.

So here’s to Molly, forever my little puppy. Here’s to the endless stream of stupid nicknames that flowed in her direction, the sleepless nights caused by her innate ability to hog the entire bed, the cute way she flicked snow up in the air with her nose, and the countless scraps of food she pilfered from the kitchen (including a Christmas ham from the refrigerator).

Here’s to the good times and the bad. Here’s to my faithful childhood companion. I’m going to miss you Molly.

• Sigur Rós – Andvari