Saying Goodbye to a Beloved Dog

Yesterday, dear friends of mine lost their beautiful dog, Teddy.

Teddy was a 120-pound goofball in the very best way. When he was happy, he would prance and bark, as if the world itself was something to celebrate. He loved everyone. If you were nearby, he would find you, lean in, and ask for a cuddle or a scratch. Augie loved him too and sometimes ran under him.

Just a few weeks ago, we were at our friends' home for a party. Teddy was stretched out right in the middle of the floor, completely at ease, as guests stepped over him one by one. He didn’t move. He didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed to love it.

That was Teddy. Content to be surrounded by people and his doggy friends.

Which makes yesterday and even today feel all the more sad.

A few days ago, his parents left on a well-deserved trip vacation. It wasn’t an easy decision. They wondered if they should go but they believed there was still time.

They left Teddy in the caring hands of a friend. Someone they trusted and who would look after him with love.

And yet yesterday morning came sooner than anyone expected.

Teddy's parents loved him in the way they cared for him every day. In the walks, the kisses, the toys, the doggy friends and so much more. They made sure he was safe, comfortable, and surrounded by love and care, even when they couldn’t be there.

And Teddy knew that love. He was surrounded by it right up until the very end.

The friend who cared for him didn’t just watch over him… she stayed with him. She slept on the floor beside him the night before he passed, making sure he wasn’t alone. She told him how much she loved him before he passed away.

Later yesterday morning, a friend and I went to him with his caregiver. We sat with him, petted him, and loved on him. We told him how much he was loved. We told him that the love surrounding him wasn’t just ours, but also his parents’, carried across the miles. I believe he felt that.

In Caitlin’s Star, I often talk about “Special Jobs” — the idea that those we love continue on in a new way, still connected to us.

I think Teddy’s job is already clear. He is the Rainbow Bridge greeter.

I can see him now, prancing and barking and throwing toys around in pure joy, just as he always did, welcoming every pet who arrives with that same open-hearted spirit. Making them feel safe and welcome.

And one day, when the time comes, I imagine him spotting his parents from afar, that big, beautiful body moving toward them, tail wagging, full of excitement. As if no time has passed at all.

Maybe even thanking them for rescuing him and for loving him so completely.

Teddy was a gentle bear of a dog.

He was loved.

He is remembered.

And to my friends, I am so deeply sorry.

 

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