My Arms Are Empty

A few months after my father passed, I received a call from Ombra May. She had recently lost her beloved Löwchen, Riley, and her words were simple and heartfelt: “My arms are empty. I need someone to love. Can Stella come and live with me?”

And just like that, Stella began her next chapter. For four wonderful years, she lived with Ombra in her retirement home—and embraced it as if she’d been preparing her whole life for this. I handed her leash to Ombra, and off she went, tail held high, never so much as a backward glance. (Closure is clearly overrated.) She loved retirement living and quickly established herself as the resident social coordinator.

It didn’t take long for her to discover that many residents kept cookies in the baskets of their walkers. From that moment on, she approached each greeting with both enthusiasm and purpose. If someone had a walker, Stella conducted a very thorough inspection—sometimes twice—always with such quiet efficiency that no one suspected a thing. To this day, I’m quite certain she believed she was performing an essential service.

Now, at 16, Stella is still very much herself—bright-eyed, curious, and delighted by every new person she meets. She may move a little more thoughtfully these days, but her spirit hasn’t dimmed one bit. She remains a perfect example of the Löwchen personality: cheerful, clever, endlessly engaging, and absolutely convinced that the world is full of friends... and possibly snacks... just waiting for her.