“He was old—missing teeth, ears no longer sharp—but that day, he still jumped onto my lap like always.
I held him and whispered, ‘Thank you.’ He gently licked my fingers… and then closed his eyes.”
Why make this memorial box?
It was a rainy November evening in 2012 when I first met him. I was walking home from the grocery store, umbrella tilted against the drizzle, when a faint whimper led me to a cardboard box tucked behind a dumpster. Inside, shivering beneath a tattered blanket, was a scrawny golden retriever mix with eyes that seemed too big for his emaciated body. I knelt down, and he lifted his head—slowly, cautiously—and pressed his cold nose to my outstretched palm. In that moment, something unspoken passed between us. I carried him home that night, naming him Max on a whim, never imagining how completely he would rewrite the story of my life…
A memorial born out of love
Precious partners, always in my heart
Accompany every farewell with care
A gentle farewell, a loving protection
A memorial born out of love
Precious partners, always in my heart
Accompany every farewell with care
A gentle farewell, a loving protection
Every thought you leave for it will one day transform into the power of love that continues to accompany you.
Ways to Remember
Leave your memories
A story for you
“Every morning, she waited for me on the windowsill. Her eyes seemed to say, ‘Let’s do our best again today.’
Even now, I often feel she’s still watching over me—from a different place.”
“Breakups, moving, job changes—I rarely talked about it, but she knew.
She never said a word, but her steady gaze told me, ‘I’m here. Always.’”
A Tribute to Unbreakable Bonds
Charlie, my best buddy
“Charlie was with me for 11 years. He passed away suddenly two years ago, and I felt a huge void in my heart. When I got this memorial box and put his paw print and necklace in it, it was like he was back with me. Maybe he left, but he is still in my life. Thank you for helping me keep this warmth.”
Molly's Little Sun
“On that rainy day in 2015, Molly, soaking wet, curled up at my doorstep. For ten years, she loved to occupy my sofa and stayed at my feet to accompany me when I worked late at night. Now, whenever I touch the small tuft of orange fluff in the memorial jar, I think of her satisfied purring when she was basking in the sun.”
Goodnight ritual of the ball
“Every night when I go home, I will gently wipe its little home in another world, just like when I got off work before, the little ball would always wag its tail and be the first to rush over and rub against my trouser legs.”