
From city sidewalks to coastal cliffs, ER waiting rooms to autumn leaves. One little golden doodle, one very big year.
Life in San Francisco. Coffee shops, coding sessions, and couch naps.



Every morning, the same routine. Kevin codes. Brock supervises. The best coworker never sends a Slack message — he just nudges your hand when it's time for a walk.
Post-bath blowout. Not a fan of the hair dryer — but absolutely a fan of being fluffy.
The late-night drives. The waiting room. The relief.

Sterile panniculitis. Words no puppy parent wants to hear. It meant multiple ER visits, sleepless nights, and a kind of fear that made everything else disappear. It freaked Mom and Dad out — a lot. But Dr. Schnabl was a savior, and Brock pulled through. He's been blessed ever since.
Coastlines, canoes, wildflowers, and the best camping buddy you could ask for.




When his little legs got tired on the trail, Beryl carried him like a baby. He didn't seem to mind one bit.


Camping with a mini goldendoodle means sharing your sleeping bag, finding fur in your coffee, and waking up to a face that says: can we do this forever?
San Francisco → South Bend, Indiana. 2,200 miles. One very good co-pilot.



Airplane carriers, golden hour on the highway, and that first night in a half-empty apartment surrounded by boxes. Home isn't the city. Home is whoever's on the couch with you.
South Bend, Indiana. New town, same good boy.


Notre Dame bandana on, blessed in the spirit of St. Francis. Technically, the first Catholic in the family. He moved Kevin and Beryl so much that day, they both joined OCIA. Leave it to a 15-pound goldendoodle to lead his parents to faith.


Dinner parties in the new kitchen. Movie nights with his favorite Mr. Bunny. Some things never change — and that's the whole point.
Cities change. Zip codes change. But the little guy on the couch? He just wants to be wherever you are. And honestly, that's enough.

