Quinn was the first dog that was truly just our dog (my wife and I) as adults. He was Seneca's big brother and taught Fremont, a rescue, how to be a dog. He was my daughter's friend. His passing was unexpected and incredibly quick. Everybody in our home has been mourning in our own way. My wife recently came across this note in my kiddo's backpack. It put a great big lump in my throat.

My wife and daughter got together and drafted a poem about global warming and the effect it has on Santa. Somehow this turned into a conversation about how Santa manages to deliver all the the presents in one night.