I never met you, sweet Tula.
But I knew your gentleness. I felt it in the quiet moments of my week, in the stillness of a morning cup of tea, in the hush between sorrows, in the soft way you looked at the world from the edge of a trail or a patch of wildflowers.
Through Dr. Jones’ words and the care he offered, you became a quiet companion to my days.
Your presence reached beyond the screen and wrapped gently around my own grief when I lost my beloved Marley.
You reminded me that there is still kindness in the world, still softness, still joy to look for.
Tula Tuesdays were my sacred pause, a place where healing was not rushed, where love was witnessed in fur and paw, and where the bond between beings was held with reverence.
Today, the post Dr. Jones never wanted to make is the one I feared would come one day. It hurts more than words could describe. I never touched your fur, but I grieve your passing with all my heart, and yesterday, I lost an old friend.
So this message spoken deeply from my heart is for you, Tula, gentle, golden soul, faithful friend, and light on the path of so many aching hearts.
May your paws find soft earth in eternity.
May the wind be warm and the trails you walked forever green.
May you be met with joy by the animals we’ve loved and lost.
And may your name be spoken for years to come, as one who reminded us to live gently, love wholly, and walk our journey with grace.
You were cherished and loved, even from afar.
You still are.