When Jack and I married, we combined two families. Our parents and siblings became in-laws, but our animals became our children.

He had Sowebo Jane, his yellow Labrador retriever, and I had LuLu, my Pekingese. Both blondes grew to accept each other as they grew to love their new parents.

I had never had a big dog in my life. My girl is 12 pounds of blond fur, compared to Sowebo's 70 pounds. I was used to carrying her like a baby and sleeping with her by my head every night. Sowebo couldn't be carried easily and definitely wasn't made for a lap, even if she thought otherwise.

It wasn't long, though, before Sowebo became my baby, too. Her daddy always came first, but I gradually became the permanent mother in her life.

People started to notice that soon after I became a steady presence, Sowebo started asking for more kisses than usual. She had grown accustomed to my babying her, just like I do my little one.

When I first met her she wore a very masculine hunter green collar. I soon replaced it with purple, the color of her favorite football team. A year later, I snuck a pink one on her, showing Jack that his first baby really had a girlie side, despite her tomboy ways.

Over the past few years, Sowebo started to show her age, developing arthritis and walking more than running. We knew when she turned 12 in March that she was truly in her golden years.

We just hoped and planned for those last years to be plentiful.

Devastatingly, Sowebo's body had different plans. On a recent doctor's visit we learned that she had inoperable cancer that had spread in the past few months.

Immediately, I felt guilty for not doing something sooner, not realizing that her slower movements were from an illness rather than her arthritis. I worried that she had suffered pain that I could have prevented. We felt like we let her down.

And yet I knew all along that while she was suffering, she wasn't telling us. She wanted us to be happy. She was a fighter who wasn't willing to let even cancer stop her tail from wagging.

The last time I saw my oldest daughter alive, she gave me one of her famous mustache kisses, where her whiskers scratch my face. She probably knew that she was saying goodbye one last time, but she didn't let on.

The days since she passed have been harder than I imagined. I want my girl back, and Jack can't bear to think of her being gone. It's hard to see her favorite spots in the house -- the kitchen and the couch -- or to walk in the park and run into her old friends. There are moments when I find myself calling her name.

I'm so used to having her in my life. We even picked out a beach house to rent this summer that would have as few steps as possible to suit her needs. The box of her favorite treats sits sadly in the cupboard.

Some people don't want pets because they don't want to deal with the daily responsibility. Others tell me they don't have pets because they can't handle the inevitable loss.

Pets don't live forever, forcing us to say goodbye more often than we like.

I can't think of any other way to live my life. Family for me means people and animals. With a four-legged friend to greet me at the end of the day, to give me kisses when I'm happy or sad, to love and just ask for love and a few treats, my life is complete.

Now that Sowebo is gone, my husband and I are trying to figure out when we will welcome a new dog into our family. If we get a new dog too early will we feel like we're trying to replace our girl? What will LuLu say when a new tail wags her in the face for the first time?

I've looked around the Web for some clues on how and when to move on. But there is no perfect potion for mourning a family pet. Some days I feel upbeat; others I feel so sad.

The only solace I find is in the memories of Sowebo's happiness -- frolicking in the grass in the park, rolling in the sand on the beach, chasing squirrels she never could catch, staring woefully until we offered her that last bit of pizza crust. Ask anyone who knew her and they will smile with an anecdote, whether it be sneaking crackers at the Christmas party or insisting on lying on her couch no matter who was sitting there already.

As I peruse the online listings, I struggle to find the right dog to fill the void her death has created. There are so many animals that need homes, and I only have room for one. If I had a bigger house and yard, I'd have a hard time not filling every available space.

When I start to worry that we are not honoring Sowebo by getting someone new, I realize that Sowebo would want us to be happy. Other than a full belly, a happy family was all she wanted.

We're sad right now, but in time we will find our latest addition to the family. She will have some pretty big paw prints to fill, but Sowebo wouldn't have it any other way.

Laura Lewis Brown is an adventurous newlywed who has loved, lost and doesn't mind sharing. Her column appears every other Thursday.