31 companions are remembered here, across the garden and the shore — each place keeps its own stones. 44 candles have been lit, and 37 whispers left. Read slowly. There is no hurry.
“Every window was her window.”

“Soft ears, steady heart.”

“i miss you”

“Thank you for giving me so many happy moments in my childhood”
“A small bird with a loud idea about every picnic on this beach.”
“One broken wing, one whole summer, and a hundred mornings on the kitchen windowsill.”
“Came for the warmth. Stayed for the view. Left a small dent in every windowsill.”
“Hated the water. Loved the pier. Sat at the very end of it for eleven years.”
“She never met a wave she did not argue with, and she never lost one.”

“Fourteen years of wet paws and a heart that never once came in from the sea.”
“Ran everywhere. Loved everyone. Came back when called — mostly.”
“The softest place to land.”
“Cheeks full, heart fuller.”
“A big dark shape who made the world feel safe.”
“He thought the morning belonged to him. It did.”
“Warm as toast, loud as a kettle.”
“Short legs. Enormous heart. Absolutely no regrets.”
“Thirteen years of perfect, elegant disdain.”
“A small blue comma in a very long sentence.”
“She left a trail of hay and good luck.”
“A small dog with an unreasonable amount of courage.”

“Moon-white, moon-quiet, always on the warmest chair.”
“Sixteen years. Not nearly enough.”
“Two years, four hundred escape attempts.”
“Sang through every winter morning.”
“Seven years of thumping at the fridge door.”
“Small, grey, and absolutely certain she was in charge.”
“Half beagle, half sunshine.”
“She supervised every email I ever wrote.”
“Twelve summers of fetch — and still wagging on the last day.”