wAveynikk

There are some words that feel impossible to write, and today, our hearts break as we try to find them.

We lost our only girl.

Echo wasn’t just a dog — she was the soul of our pack, the calm in the chaos, the heartbeat of our home. In a family of five dogs, she was our one and only girl, and now that she’s gone, we feel her absence in every corner of our lives. The four boys still with us know it too. They look for her. They feel what we feel. The whole house is quieter now, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for her to come trotting around the corner like she always did.

Echo was an American Bully — strong, beautiful, and full of grace. She was the mama of our boy Kobie and the one and only partner to our boy Bubbas. Watching the bond between them was something special. She ruled the pack gently but firmly — and the boys respected her like a queen.

And she was our protector. Echo was a natural-born guard dog. Nobody had to teach her — it just came to her like instinct. She stood watch without being asked. She knew who belonged and who didn’t. She made us feel safe, always. When she was around, we knew everything was okay.

But Echo wasn’t just fierce — she was fast. So fast. We used to call her our Kentucky Derby girl because she could run like the wind. It was fitting too — Andrew drove all the way to Kentucky to bring her home. From the very beginning, she was worth every mile, every minute, every moment.

She loved the backyard — it was her kingdom. That’s where she ran wild and free, and that’s where she rests now. We buried her under the same sky she raced beneath, in the yard she loved so much. It hurts to go back there without her. It hurts to see her spot empty. It hurts to breathe sometimes.

This kind of pain never fully goes away. It settles in, quiet and heavy, and becomes part of you. Grief has no timeline. And when you love someone like we loved Echo, there’s no moving on — only moving forward with their memory.

But what a memory she leaves behind.

We’ll never forget her speed, her strength, the way she looked at us with those deep, knowing eyes. We’ll never forget how she mothered her babies, how she stood guard over her home, or how she curled up close when we needed her most. She gave us her whole heart — and now a piece of ours is buried with her.

To our girl Echo: You were our protector, our mama dog, our wild runner, our peace. Thank you for every single second. Thank you for loving us and for letting us love you. You were family, and you always will be.

Run free, Kentucky Derby girl. We’ll see you again someday.

Forever in our hearts. Forever our girl.