I say official because we've known for a long time that we're going to marry. I just needed to abide by proper protocol and buy a diamond.

I'm so romantic, I know.

Lindsey and I are simple people. By that, I mean we're down-to-earth and desperately unadorned. We get our kicks by walking in the woods, waiting for falling stars, and rolling pennies when the pickle jar fills.

No, really.

Anyway, Dan Daniel park in Virginia is a place at which we've stopped several times during our travels. It's very quaint, and quite unpopulated just after sunup. I decided to ask her to marry me in a little spot beside the river where we once had a mini-picnic.

We left very early this morning just so we could be in the park when it opened. After walking around for a while, talking and remembering, we made it to our little spot. After some lovey-dovey talk I bent down and asked, after which she went nuts and said some things in a foreign language, which she later told me was freaked-out girl talk for "OHMYGOSHOFCOURSEYESILOVEYOU."

We will be married in Virginia on May 20, 2006. You can come as long as you bring an expensive gift or, preferably, cash.

I may be a little old to finally declare this, but the last lingering fundament of my youth is gone. This morning, shortly after turning 16½, Gig's heart stopped. I cried. Like a baby.

I was only 7 when he was born—April 9, 1989—and I'll soon be 24-years-old. Gig has been around for 69% of my presently short life. For a less technical explanation, Gig was my Dog, capital D. He kept me company for years, and as any pet owner-lover knows, it's more appropriate to count the days. Terribly bad, wonderfully good, and anywhere between, a day may be bettered by a pet. Just as with a person, the relationship of a pet holds memories, connections, insights, secrets, and even inside jokes.

I buried Gig beneath the apple tree that shaded him throughout his life. As a young boy, I spent countless hours playing among fallen apples with G.I. Joes, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Transformers, and He-Man, when I could find him. All missions to launch a surprise attack on Mount Gig failed.

Gig will be remembered as he was—a welcoming, bright-eyed, wagging watchdog. And a lover of all things cheese.

I miss you, Gig.