Holly came into our lives on Christmas Day, 2013. We met her at the Broward County Animal Shelter. Jake was immediately drawn to her—something just clicked. We had never owned a beagle before and didn’t know much about them, but that didn’t matter. Holly had already chosen us.
On the drive home, she looked around, then let out a long, loud howl. Jake and I jumped, startled, then burst into laughter. “So that’s what a beagle sounds like,” we said. It was her way of saying thank you—and announcing that life with Holly would never be boring.
At home, we quickly learned a few more things. Holly loves people, does not love other dogs, and has a habit of running off to explore. Fortunately, we had put her name and phone number on her collar, which turned out to be a blessing—we’ve met over 75 neighbors thanks to her little adventures. Holly may not like other dogs, but she brought our community together in her own way.
She tolerated the other dogs in our home, as long as they gave her space. And they learned quickly: Holly was the queen of her domain.
Over the years, she’s stood by us through so much—devastating hurricanes, a house fire, hard times and healing. She didn’t need to say much; her presence was enough.
When we learned Holly had Epitheliotrophic Cancer, I felt a lump in my heart. We always knew this day would come, but knowing doesn’t make it easier. She’s now on palliative care, and we’re making the most of every moment—soaking in her howls, her stubbornness, her warmth.
Whatever time we have left, it will be full of love, gratitude, and the sound of a beagle who changed everything just by being herself.
