There is something sacred about the dog you get in your early 20s. You’re broke, you’re struggling, and you have no idea what you’re doing with your life but suddenly, you have this living thing that thinks you’re perfect. 11 years ago, I was a college kid moving into my very first apartment. I didn’t need a dog, but I fell in love with a puppy who, by all accounts, should have never been mine. I didn’t realize then that this little soul would become the heartbeat of my entire world. We grew up together. Stella was there for the messy parts and the milestones. She was raised by a village of college kids. She was the recipient of a thousand “good girls,” the secret sharer of late-night pizza crusts, and the undisputed star of every dog park we ever stepped foot into. Through every heartbreak, every failure, and every move to a new city, she was my constant. Rest easy, Stella. Go find a park with no fences and a kitchen that never runs out of treats. You were the best thing I ever brought home.