Huub.

There are just a few of us behind DearestDog. This story belongs to one of us.

She had loved dogs before him, deeply. None of those loves were small. And still, none of them was Huub.

He was two when she picked him up. A rescue. She took him home, and somewhere in that first hour, he rescued her right back. The kind of bond you don't plan for and can't quite explain.

He couldn't manage stairs, so she slept on the couch downstairs until he felt safe. From that day on they were inseparable - he read her mind, and went everywhere she went.

He wasn't just along for the ride. He went to work with her every day, and was listed as a colleague on her business website - with his own email address. But that was only a small part of who he was.

Then aggressive cancer came, at six years old. Every treatment, every option, everything there was to spend. It wasn't enough.

In the weeks after came a particular kind of loneliness. Three in the morning, the leash still by the door, the silence too loud. And nowhere to go with it. No place that understood.

So she built what she had been looking for. Not a help page. Not the five stages of grief.

You can say anything there. Nothing is judged, nothing is rushed. You go through it your own way, in your own time.

And it doesn't have to wait until then. While your dog is still with you, it is where every walk, every photo and every small moment can go - so it is all there when you need it.