I just found out that my dog — my best friend, my shadow, my constant companion — has lymphoma that has already spread. For nearly 14 years, he’s been my happiness, my comfort, my safe place. That’s a third of my life. And now, despite testing him repeatedly over the last five months — and getting nothing but negative results — it’s suddenly here.

I’m angry at the doctors for missing it. But mostly, I’m just devastated.

He’s older. I’ve had thoughts — the quiet, creeping kind — that one day this would happen. I kept pushing them away. But now I’m here, face to face with the grief I’ve always dreaded.

He’s still with me. He’s still eating. He’s still trying. He starts chemo on Saturday. But because the cancer is advanced, even that may only give us a few more months.

I’m trying to be present. To enjoy the time we still have. But it’s hard. So hard. It already feels like he’s leaving me — like I’m watching him slip through my fingers one day at a time.

It hurts even more because I’m getting married in a few months. My fiancé and I are even questioning whether to go on our honeymoon — we can’t bear the idea of leaving him.

This is just so, so sad. I can’t picture life without him. The pain is already unbearable, and he hasn’t even gone yet.

I’m trying to hold on to the time we have, to live inside it. But it’s hard not to be consumed by the ticking clock. How do you let go while they’re still here? How do you say goodbye to a love like this?

——–

I wanted to write a nice thing to preserve the memory of the first day we met for him

—–

For Pepper, My Doggie Soulmate

You chose me the moment we met.

In a room full of people, full of noise and distractions, you saw only me.
You ignored everyone else, and I felt it — this quiet certainty that you had always been mine.
Even when we walked away that day — when I was told to go look at other dogs —
you panicked.
You cried.
And when we came back, you found me again and jumped into my arms like you’d been waiting your whole life to go home.

I didn’t go there to get you.
But you had already decided.
And the second I held you, so had I.

You screamed when they made me fill out the paperwork.
You howled like your life depended on being near me — and in a way, it did.
But what I didn’t know then is that mine did too.

You sniffed me in the car like you were making sure I was real,
then curled up in my lap and slept — safe.
And from that moment on, you never let me out of your sight.

You have followed me, watched me, stayed within 50 feet of me for almost 14 years.
You never wanted me to leave. You always wanted to protect me.
And you did.

You were the first good, pure, and grand thing that ever happened to me.

My early life was dark — but then there was you.
You were my light. My anchor. My reason.
You showed me I was lovable. Worth choosing.
You healed what nothing else ever could.

And now, I feel you watching me in a different way —
like you’re making sure I’ll be okay without you.

I know you’ve been holding on.
Watching over me until I was safe.
And now that I’ve found love again — now that I’m getting married —
I feel you preparing to pass the torch.

But I’m not ready to let you go.

You are more than a pet.
You are my soulmate. My shadow. My heartbeat in dog form.

And no matter what happens, I want you to know this:
You never have to be afraid.
You don’t have to worry about me.
Because you did your job so perfectly that I will carry you in every part of my life from this day forward.

You chose me once.
I will choose you forever.