In Loving Memory of Brutus …and the Gift of Stella

 In Loving Memory of Brutus
…and the Gift of Stella
Brutus wasn’t just my dog—he was my shadow, my comfort, and my quiet protector. 
A big, beautiful Rottweiler with a heart even bigger than his frame, he had a gentle 
soul that softened every room he entered. Despite his size, Brutus believed he was 
a baby—curling up beside me, nudging me for cuddles, and always finding a way to be 
close.
His eyes spoke to me. I never had to explain how I felt—he just knew. Whether I was 
sad, anxious, or simply lost in thought, Brutus was there, steady and silent, offering 
comfort without a word. He didn’t bark much, didn’t demand attention. He simply 
was—present, loyal, and full of love.
I miss him terribly. The house felt quieter, not just in sound but in spirit. But then 
came Stella.
She’s my new Rottweiler, and I believe Brutus sent her to me. Not to replace him—no one 
ever could—but to help me carry the weight of missing him. Stella has her own spark, 
her own quirks, but there’s something in her eyes that feels familiar. Like she knows. 
Like he whispered to her before she arrived: “Take care of her. She’s mine.”
Brutus, thank you for being mine. And thank you for finding Stella. You were the best 
boy, and you always will be.