Good-bye Jean-Luc

Nah, don't get all teary eyed. I did it for love.
I gave away my beloved one year old Boston terrier (with maybe a pit bull grandmother?).
To the best home in the world.
This is what happened. I had rescued him from a back yard breeder. Jean-Luc was in desperate straits. He was malnourished, wormy, full of giardia, crypto-something or other, had a broken tail, a fractured cheek bone, and a few other problems, since the "breeder's" nineteen year old tatooed, purple mohawked son was using him as a live football. We fed him, paid for several restorative operations, neutered him, loved him, vitaminized him, and eventually brought him to full and totally vibrant good health. The problem was that he grew to fifty pounds (pit bull genes always out themselves) and was extremely - er- exuberant. The other problem was that we have two tiny full grown shih tzus that weighed about three pounds each, and were getting unceremoniously flipped through the air on a daily basis. Or squashed when he playfully pounced on them. There was much whimpering, limping, and soulful looks from the little ones. It wasn't that Jean-luc wasn't gentle, they could take food right out of his mouth, it was that he wanted to play with them so badly,which meant picking them up by their heads and carrying them around like they were one of his stuffed toys, or body slamming them against a wall as he ran in from the back yard. I was terrified that one day i would hear a fateful crunch and that would be the end of one of my little fluff balls.
So, my dearest friend Kay, offered to take him. She lives on a huge horse/cow farm and has three delightful kids, and two other dogs who are big, and lots of room for him to run his brains out. And as a bonus, is a dog groomer by profession, so is used to handling anything. He is quite happy there. Her kids adore him, and he sleeps on their beds, he eats calf poop and barfs it up in my friend's kitchen, he sits on her kitchen table and watches the world go by, and in general, is having a great life. Which makes me happy. Except that i miss him like crazy.
I guess sometimes we're just meant to be the intermediary, not the final destination.
Did i say i still miss him?
And if i should ever run across a petite Boston terrier, who looks like him.....well.....