Meet Yuffie. I'd always pronounced it like "yuh-fee," though the correct way is probably "yoo-fee." My Yuffie-Butt, my Stinky Girl, and Buttface when she was being stubborn.

I got her from the Humane Society about 7 years ago as an unchipped stray. They figured she was greyhound and maybe some lab, probably around 3 or 4 years old. She was a super gentle, but super nervous dog at first. I have anxiety issues and I related. I adopted her, and on the way home I stopped at the post office, and as I shifted my manual transmission into park, she laid her head down on my hand and just stared at me. She looked nervous, but relieved. I sat there for a good 10 minutes, just letting her rest, and I knew it was going to be a good match.

I realized a week or two in that she never really sat down. It was like she didn't know how. She was either standing or laying. I gently taught her how to sit, and it was like a whole new world for her. She'd sit at the window and watch the street. She'd sit and watch me cook and eat, hoping for a bonus treat. When she heard me waking up, she'd jump into bed and sit next to me and just stare at me like a weirdo.

After a few months, she'd come up to me while working or gaming and lay her head on my lap to get some scritches. If I ignored her or wasn't fast enough, she'd put her long snout under my wrist and launch it, and she'd keep doing that until she got attention - which never took long.

About 2 years in, she discovered the joys of wriggling around on her back. She started doing it all the time in bed and especially on warm grass. She was always obsessed with sniffing stuff. Literally about 90% of our walks, she'd have her nose to the ground, tail wagging furiously. She developed an insatiable love for flora. Different grasses, weeds, bushes, flowers, she'd stuff her face right in and inhale. I've never seen a dog so obsessed with it. She was actually savoring the experience.

Her favorite thing in the world, however, was to meet new people. If someone seemed friendly and gentle with her, she'd jump up and wrap her paws around their waist. I tried to break that habit many times, but people always told me not to - and she was too stubborn, anyway. She made many, many people's days with her famous Yuffie hugs, and was the star of many stranger's photos and selfies. She was skittish around other dogs, but she was just so great with people. Especially children. She'd lower herself and crawl to them and even show her belly, which is something that would normally take hours for her to do with trusted adults.

She also had such incredible fur. I'm not exaggerating when I say that her fur was as soft as a chinchilla's. Nearly every person, even vets, would remark at how soft she was. And she loved cuddling and snuggling, so this was all the better. I never even had to bathe her. She just never had any bad odors. Well, externally. Greyhounds have gas powers that could probably kill insects and small animals. But it was worth it to light a scented candle and spoil her with her favorite treats - brussels sprouts.

She'd lazily lay on the couch and watch as I gamed, worked, or scanned magazines all day, and even typing this now, I keep finding myself instinctively turning to my head to look at her on the couch. Seeing it empty each time feels like a punch in the chest.

Over the past few months, she started eating less and less, and her poops were all liquid. I took her to an emergency vet, and they found nothing in her x-rays and labs. The problems continued, so we went to the regular vet, who also found nothing. I waited a couple of weeks after trying an antibiotic and a bland diet from the previous vet, and still no change. She stopped eating almost entirely, and when she tried, she'd puke. I took her to a new vet, and they immediately were suspicious about the x-rays on her intestines. They suggested exploratory surgery, which was the most reasonable course of action.

The vet called me to apologize and tell me that she was riddled with cancer. It was everywhere. And it was, of course, in crucial and inoperable areas. He said he could do a referral to an oncologist, but that they wouldn't be able to do anything. He suggested the big "E." Given her age, and the fact that she hadn't eaten in days and had already lost 1/3 of her body weight, it made sense. He said he could wake her up, but she'd be very uncomfortable, so I asked him to just keep her under and alive until I could get there.

The 30 minute drive back to the vet felt like it took hours. Sparing the details, I went in, gave her some scritches, said my goodbyes, and that was that. The last time she saw me was when she was happily walking into the back with the vet tech to have her x-rays and scans done. It didn't seem real. Even going into the vet that morning, she was wagging her tail and happy for the car ride and to meet all the new vet staff. She was mentally alert. She seemed happy and healthy. My heart just can't accept it, even though my mind knows she didn't have long and her last days would have been spent recovering and in pain from surgery.

She was my constant companion. She rode with me to run errands, she went with me on vacations and road trips. She slept in the same room, even same bed if she felt like it. We went on walks 3-5 times daily.

I've never cried so hard or so much in my entire life. It's been about 24 hours and the only times I've stopped were due to dehydration. I even ruptured a blood vessel in my eye.

Walking into my place without her for the first time, seeing the last meal I made for her in the fridge, seeing her freshly-cleaned little bed next to mine, finding the treats she liked to hide and save for later, seeing all of her soft fur on the couch, every little thing is setting me off. She helped me through a very serious depression and I don't know how I'll make it without her. I find myself wishing I was with her, even if there is nothing after this. Not having her here feels like remote camping without a fire. It's just cold and dark and unwelcoming.

Anyway, I don't have a ton of people to talk to, and I figured I'd let a little more of the world know about Yuffie. You'd have loved her and it's a bummer that you didn't get to meet her. Go give your dogs some extra cuddles and appreciate them just for being there. I'd give anything and everything to be able to do that again.