Last night we said goodbye to our almost 12-year-old Labrador Retriever mix, June Bug Benson. Our black dog with white spot and a purple tongue.
June’s mom was rescued off the streets of Houston, then brought to Colorado where she gave birth to June and her siblings in the spring/summer of 2014. When we went to meet the puppies, June walked straight to me. I knew in that moment she was the dog for us.
Over the last 11 years, June wasn’t “just a dog.” She was part of our family. She was joy and kindness on four legs. And she quietly taught us many lessons over the years.
Happiness is a choice
June chose happiness regardless of the situation. Rain, snow, roadtrips, new homes, chaotic mornings—none of it changed her baseline. Tail wagging. Hips wiggling.
She didn’t need perfect conditions to be happy. She decided to be happy. Every day.
People remember how you make them feel
June welcomed everyone with pure love and excitement.
We’ve moved a lot in the last 12 years, and I can’t count the number of friends and neighbors who still ask about her. She made friends everywhere she went.
Kindness is free
June loved all creatures. Humans, dogs, and even the farm animals on my sister’s ranch—she treated everyone with the same gentle love and kindness.
Toads. Chickens. Goats. No judging. No hierarchy.
Just kindness.
Walking is key to good health
June loved her walks.
She was a daily reminder that 10,000 steps isn’t a trend. It’s a foundation to good health.
June knew that intuitively.
The importance of rest
June could bring the energy when it was time to play—and then she could nap like a pro.
She played hard, recovered fully, and repeated. That’s how you stay strong for the long haul.
Live in the moment
June wasn’t stuck in yesterday and she wasn’t anxious about tomorrow.
She was present. Always.
If the sun was out, she was in it. If a kid was near, she was getting a belly rub. If it was time for food, her tag was wagging.
Savor the little things
Without fail, June loved her kibble three times a day. She was so happy every time.
She loved laying in the sun. Belly rubs. Snuggling on the couch. A slow walk. The simple rituals.
She didn’t need more. She appreciated the little things.
Memento mori
Life is precious, and loss is part of the deal. June’s passing is a reminder we don’t get to keep anyone forever—dogs, parents, friends, or even our immediate family members.
Everyone we love will face death.
It pushes us to love harder, forgive faster, and waste less time on fear and worry.
The greatest memory: June and the kids
The most amazing part of June’s life was watching our four kids build a bond with her that felt so pure and deep.
June was always getting a belly rub from one of them. And every night there was a fight about whose bed she would sleep on.
She gave them comfort, friendship and love.
And in return, they loved her dearly.
June, thank you for choosing us. Thank you for the joy, the loyalty, and the quiet lessons you taught our family—without ever saying a word.
Peace be with you, June Bug.