There is no goodbye.

Missoula. The Hollywood Hills. Santa Monica. Shasta-Trinity National Forest. Six Rivers NF. Klamath NF. Redwood National Park. Mt. Shasta Wilderness. The Hollywood Loews. Willamete NF. Deschutes NF. Colville NF. Idaho Panhandle NF. The Davenport Grand (haha). Lolo NF. Flathead NF. Bitterroot NF. The Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness. Rogue River-Siskiyou NF. Flathead Lake. The Pacific Ocean. Lake Couer D’ALene, The National Bison Range. The Mission Mountains. Glacier National Park. And campgrounds, parks, trails, and roadways too numerous to mention.
We saw moose, wolves, grizzlies, elk, bison, walruses, seals, eagles, foxes, black bears, owls, chipmunks, waterfalls, peaks, endless forests and glorious sunsets. We were free. Each morning brimming with possibilities.

20,000 miles in 8 months, together. Somehow, we wrote the perfect ending even though I never saw it coming. You never showed me even the slightest symptom my friend, until twelve days before you left my side.
–
Last week, Wrigley died peacefully on my lap as I pet him and told him I loved him.
He went out on top.

12.5 years ago, I adopted Wrigley with my friend Sarah from the Chicago pound. Strangely, he’d been left alone in a large metal cage in the pit bull section. He had numerous infections, and would throw himself at the cage bars when we walked past, purring intensely. When Sarah and I walked away from his cage, he’d make sure we heard him. He never gave up on us. He chose us.

Many of you have seen him adventuring with me on social media, and he’s gained quite a following. The thing is, Wrigley didn’t have an owner, and I didn’t own him. He and I simply had a 12 year bromance.

He displayed a level of beauty, awareness, and intelligence I have yet to see matched by another animal. He was a beast, too! More like a lynx.

I’m in shock at how fast all this happened.

Thank you all for the kind words of love, support, and encouragement regarding this situation. Wrigley was there for the creation of all my novels…there for all the cool stuff…there for the adventure. There by my side, always.
But most of all, above everything else, Wrigley was an original. And his loss is a void that simply can’t be filled.

I still see him out of the corner of my eye, still expect him to come running when I emerge from the shower, still expect to see him happily putting his paws on the center console and staring at the highway with big eyes as if to say, “where to next? This is fun!”.
He *fascinated* me. He was a light that people were drawn to. When I took him on walks, people immediately approached, their faces filled with wonder. “He’s so huge and handsome” and “his eyes are amazing” were the compliments he received the most. That’s just the effect he had. He was a joy.

I hope I had that effect on him.

Before leaving on this crazy adventure, Wrigley would sometimes “yowl” in my Missoula house during the early morning hours. After researching this behavior on the internet, I found that yowling means a cat is bored.

Wrigley didn’t yowl once in the last eight months.

Last September, Wrigley and I drove Going to the Sun Road in Glacier National Park at 1am. We had the park to ourselves. As we climbed the winding road to Logan Pass, the roadside trees kneeled in the wind as leaves pirouetted in the headlights. I parked at Logan Pass and got out, fighting the wind as I opened the door. I slung Wrigley over my shoulder and we looked towards the sky. To the west, lightning flashed across the horizon, illuminating nearby peaks. To the east, the sky remained clear and braced with shimmering stars. We stood there in the night, feeling the wind, watching the universe, hearing the distant rumble of thunder.

My travels will never be the same…will never be as joyful. Nor will my writing days.

But I know Wrigley would want me to try.

I won’t say goodbye, my friend. There’s no such thing. We are all one in the end.

Wrigley adventuring in Northern California, March. That’s 14,000 foot Mount Shasta behind him.