Saying Goodbye to My Old Soul

Saying goodbye has never been so hard as when we let you slip away in our arms that rainy, Tuesday afternoon. In the company of calming souls and reassuring words, we knelt beside you. Whispering in your ear all of the thank you's, I love you's, and I will miss you's, we could muster until your final heartbeat. Never has the most loving thing to do been so hard to do, but we knew that it was time.  

You had such a majesty about you my friend. A primal presence that made most people stop in their tracks to admire the beautiful animal that you are. The feeling of running my fingers through your golden brown fur and ink black cape, past your coarse guard hairs, and deep into your down. Still so vivid in my mind. You never shied away from staring deep into my eyes and allowing me to see deep within your soul. You were an alpha in every sense of the word. A prideful protector of your pack and loyal to those you allowed in your bubble. You were by no means a, “vanilla” dog which, in hindsight I wouldn’t have had it any other way, but let’s face it we had our challenges.

These beautiful virtues and traits were never more evident than during our last weekend together. We didn’t know it was going to be our last adventure with you, but I am so grateful it was. You had such a gasp of life about you, and never for a moment would anyone have thought that your heart was nearing its end. That heart fought an uphill battle just to stay pumping for the last four months of your life. You moved effortlessly through the dense green understory. Up and over slick boulders, loped alongside the banks of the river, and watched over us as we waded waste deep in the emerald green water with fly rods in hand. I’d like to think that you knew your time had come and that you wanted to intentionally squeeze everything you could out of your final moments of life, knowing that the next day you would have nothing left to give.

Juneau always kept a close watch over me when we went fly fishing and continued to do so days before he left us. Captured here.

Someone once said that you only live once, but I disagree. I believe that we live every second, and every minute of our lives and that in fact we only die once. I would like to think that I did my very best to give you a life in which you were given the freedom to live and explore your wild spirit in wild spaces right up to the very end. The flooding of memories that surface as I grieve gives me comfort in knowing that I succeeded in doing just this.  

Over the last ten years, you have taught me so much. What it means to love unconditionally, and be loyal to those we love. To endure the times when the odds are stacked against us and the overwhelming feeling of wanting to give up never felt so real. To accept and embrace the reality that we are not perfect, and that mistakes will be made time and time again. To apologize profusely and immediately after doing something wrong. To set ourselves and the ones we love up for success, and love them relentlessly for who they are and not what you want them to be.

In the absence of your physical presence, I must find comfort and a deep sense of gratitude in knowing that I had the privilege of being a constant presence in your story. From beginning and right up to the very end, you were by my side for the most formative moments of my own story. A monolith deeply embedded in loyalty, you were there by my side without judgment as I went through both the freeing, and the aching breakups; the feelings of utter loneliness, the beauty of finding true love, and the waves of personal growth that I went through. We were a team in every sense of the word, but this was never more true than during our three years spent searching for the missing together as a state certified K9 search and rescue team. We trained, we bonded, and we searched for those who were in need of help. Those were the days.

Thank you for being so devilishly handsome that day on the mountain four years ago when we met your mom, our girl from the mountain, and brother for the very first time. We will always know who the love at first sight was between, which I have come to endearingly accept. I mean how one could not fall deeply in love with you as you stood stoic and regal on the snowy mountain ridge that day is beyond me.

Time is not always on our side as I so selfishly wanted you to walk me down that aisle of river stones, surrounded by all the people who we let into our bubble. To have you stand with me and your mom as her and I vow to love each other whole-heartedly forever like you had taught us time and time again. Although you will not be there physically for our big day I know that your spirit will be all around us as we enter into the next chapter of our life.

Our family, our pack, forever and always. 

Grieving you is a hard thing to do. I find myself being more protective of you than ever before. Recluse and quiet, your mom and I are stumbling through the process of coming to terms with the fact that you are no longer here with us. You would think that I would be reaching out to any and all for support, but it’s quite the opposite. Instead, I have avoided telling people of the news as it feels every time I tell someone the reality of you not being here just becomes more and more real. Time will heal, but the feeling of missing you continues to overwhelm my day to day. There are always two sides of grief. One is the feeling of pain and sadness, and the other is kind yet raw reminder of just how much of you was a part of who I am. The old adage of not knowing what you have until you lose it just doesn’t apply here. I knew exactly what we had, because by nature you had this instinctual way of reminding me to be unreservedly in the present when we were together.

Juneau, you will forever be my dog, my teacher, my protector, and a reflection of who I am today. I have lost you as my shadow, but your spirit is still very much by my side. Our memories permanently etched in the boulders scattered in and alongside the rivers we fished and in the rings of trees that sway in the wilderness we loved to explore. We promise to check in on you when we make our way back to the important places we use to go. Rest easy my eternal old soul and know that I love you.