Nala’s Story — Comfort Arrived in a Small Box
I expected a keepsake. I didn’t expect comfort.
I expected a keepsake. I didn’t expect comfort.
When Chloe looks back at her favorite photo of Nala, she always notices the same thing: the way they both looked up at her—one close enough to fill the frame, the other waiting just behind, as if they were following her from room to room.
After Nala was gone, that ordinary little moment became the one she missed most. She didn’t want anything loud or performative—just something gentle, something that wouldn’t ask for feelings, but could quietly sit with them.
We shaped the memorial in a relaxed posture and paid special attention to the coat’s soft transitions. The goal wasn’t only likeness—it was calm: a piece that looks soothing.
We refined the muzzle line and adjusted the eye placement until the expression read “resting,” not “alert,” matching Chloe’s favorite memory of Nala.
Chloe keeps the memorial near the blanket Nala loved. She told us it changed missing into a quieter feeling—still sad, but less sharp. Some days she holds it for a minute, the way you hold a warm cup: not to fix anything, just to feel a little steadier.