The Sweet Pup New Year’s Commitment

I absolutely don’t want to face the inevitable. But if I do the hard thing now… will it lessen the pain? Make the loss sweeter? I think so, and here’s why…

I’ll be the first to recognize I’m lucky. I don’t have a lot of experience with death.

Though I’ve loved and lost, it’s been limited to distant relatives and others removed by time and geography.

The pets I’ve loved and lost went suddenly. Unexpectedly.

That in itself holds pain, and I’ll write about it soon.

But the experience of looming pet death is new to me. And yet, I sense it’s possible this year. Maybe probable.

(Every fiber of my being wants to erase those last two sentences.)

My sweet dogs Owie and Posa are getting on in years. Owie is 14, Posa is 12. And for Cavaliers, those are ripe old ages.

They’re still fit and in good health… for their ages.

Fireworks and thunder are no longer a problem now that they’re mostly deaf.

Walking around the block is more of an amble, a chance to not just sniff everything in sight as if they’re lost in a second puppyhood, but also an obstinate exercise in refusing to move when they’ve reached their limit (like the end of the street).

They sleep away most of the day, only really coming to life at mealtimes and when the kitchen smells like scrambled eggs.

Their ever-louder snores are my daily companions, serving as a sort of comfortable white noise amidst the beeps and whirs of a modern, digitized home.

If I’m being honest, I don’t spend a lot of intentional time with them. Mostly because time with an old dog is an exercise in patience, and I’m currently mired in that cursed space of hurrying through everything because there isn’t time enough for anything.

So today, New Year’s Day, I slowed down.

I leashed up Owie—Posa was snoring away, oblivious. We took what felt like a 30-minute walk just to the next block. He sniffed, he peed, he stopped and looked around as if the world was brand-new.

I forced myself to wait. To talk to him, even though he can’t hear me. To reach down and scratch his silky neck. To gently coax him forward, not yanking but just suggesting.

I’d like to tell you it was a magical first-day-of-the-year walk.

But really, it was a massive test in self-restraint. And love.

It’s something I want to work on more this year, with intentionality. I want to cultivate these sweet-pup moments and savor them and take the time to tell my little animal friends how much they mean to me before they’re gone and I’m hit with pain and regret at not taking the time to tell them those things.

Part of me thinks I don’t have it in me. I’m brisk. Efficient. A speed-walking champion.

So spending a whole year intentionally savoring moments with my pets seems… soft.

But is it? Or is it brave?

Is it going to be as hard as I think it’ll be?

Might it be completely worth it? Or will I have regret and pain regardless?

I don’t know. That’s why I’m committed to sharing it all here, with you. And I’d be so grateful if you shared your own, similar stories. I hope we learn from one another.

To a beautiful 2026 with our pets. Thank you for being here.