3 years later

Then I found him…thinking I would help him have a better life, restore him back to health and teach him how to be a properly behaved dog. And while all that did happen, I was the one that healed deep wounds, experienced a richer life and learned how to be a better, more empathetic human being… all because of him.

Chief came into my life July 2010. I found him at a shelter as a very skinny 2 year old semi aggressive dog. No one knew where he came from but was found in the streets. He had signs he had for fought for food and was emaciated. They had him in a giant cage and once I met him I kind of knew why. He had a ton of energy and a strong personality. I had been wanting a German Shepherd for many years and finally felt I was ready. The next few months were a crash course in psychology for dogs and more importantly human psychology. I was recovering from a few year’s worth of curveballs piled on from life. Then I found him…thinking I would help him have a better life, restore him back to health and teach him how to be a properly behaved dog. And while all that did happen, I was the one that healed deep wounds, experienced a richer life and learned how to be a better, more empathetic human being… all because of him.

I now know what unconditional love is because I experienced it from a 70 lb hair shedding machine, loving fur monster with the softest ears and even softer eyes … from day friggin’ one. We lived in 8 different places in 11 years. We went through all of life’s ups and downs together.

Out of all my human experiences at the moment, I give this a perfect 10 out of 10. To quote Anchorman, he was like a miniature Buddha. He had a good life and made my life good. I celebrate his life now that he’s not here and I’m trying to remember all the lessons he taught me… like to not leave food in the counter because he would eat it or the cockroaches would get to it. He taught me other practical and philosophical shit too. Like forgiving. Or to not take myself so seriously.

I’ve become sensitive to events happening more than once. In 2021, Chief was getting up there in age and had just turned 13 years old. That’s about the life expectancy of a German shepherd. For the longest time, I struggled to know when it was the right time to put him down. He still had the spirit of a puppy and his mental sharpness kept me on my toes.

After a trip to visit a buddy of mine in Dominican Republic, I came back to pick him up from his dog sitter. The lady who cared for him said she worked as a vet nurse and told me that Chief was in pain. I knew he was uncomfortable because he started losing mobility in his hind legs and was dragging them. It started with one and then he was dragging both. It was incredibly difficult to witness. A week later (I believe it was a Friday or maybe Saturday), I had dinner with some friends. One of my friends, who tends to have less tact in situations like this, suggested that I cut the cord (implying I put him to sleep). I was really irked that she suggested this.

I woke up the Sunday of August 8th and realized that this was the second time I had heard that it may be time for him to go. My wish was to put him down before he suffered, his quality of life was too poor or that his dignity would be nonexistent because of his physical condition. I just didn’t know what that would look like. No one tells you when it’s time. And he didn’t look like he wanted to go. And if he did, he seemed more concerned that I would be ok. The last picture I have of him was him sitting almost in front of my bedroom door. He always did protect me and made me feel this way.

I took him outside to go potty and I think I fed him a little. For over six months, I had to give him anxiety medicine because he was hurting himself (again his mind was super sharp and thought he could run but then he’d fall). The lady who told me he was in pain recommended me some marijuana pills for him. I went ahead and bought them for him so it would help with his discomfort. For more than a year, I was giving him glucosamine for his joints. At that age, you’re just buying time.

Living on the second floor of a walk-up made carrying his heavy 70lbs body up and down incredibly difficult. And it wasn’t because I couldn’t carry that weight. It was that he was top-heavy and he wasn’t a fan of me picking him up. He and I shared the same stubborn self-sufficient “I’m a grown-ass man” attitude. I often feared that I would fall down the stairs because of how awkward it was to carry him to the second floor, multiple times a day.

I came back and wondered if I’d want to take him to the Banfield hospital where I used to take him. Then I thought how I didn’t want his last vet visit to be at the place he wasn’t particularly fond of. So I called a local animal hospital about half a mile from my house and asked if they had appointments available for putting my dog down. I called around 10am or so. They said that they did have a slot open at 1:30 or 2pm…. can’t really remember at this point but I do know it was after lunch.

I booked it and took myself down to one of my favorite Italian restaurants in Miami Beach and ordered everything on the menu including a bottle of wine. I drank the whole thing and ate the whole thing. Honestly, I couldn’t imagine taking Chief to the vet to put him down completely sober. I drove back after lunch, picked up my dog, placed him in the back of my 2002 Toyota 4Runner and drove to the vet.

I’m not a religious person. But I do believe the universe conspires in my favor. This creative energy that exists connects us all through love. And I felt like an angel or the universe (in conjunction with the bottle of wine) made me go into auto-pilot for the last walk with Chief. I drove us to the hospital and checked us in. Chief was hopped on his meds and was wobbly. I don’t imagine he knew what was going on. Sometimes I wonder if he was like “finally, what took you so long?” or was more like “why did you bring me here? I’m not ready.”

Either way they prepped his room and then they took him while I sat outside. They gave him a tranquilizer and placed on his side. Then the vet called me. I was quiet and still. I know I looked stoic. I don’t know how my face was but I was wearing glasses because I knew I was going to be a mess. I hadn’t cried that morning or in the afternoon. I went in with the conviction of what had to be done.

I asked the vet if he had given him the med to Chief and he said not yet. He said Chief was feeling relaxed and that shortly he would administer the final injection. I was still and had no emotion displaying. The vet said he was now going to administer the final dose and I held my breath. He pushed the syringe and then I asked, “is it done?” He said yes.

I don’t think I’ve released an uncontrollable sob as loud as I did then. I wept uncontrollably and hugged my little boy one last time. It was one of the worst feelings I’ve ever experienced. How do you end such a beautiful friendship and companionship like this? How is it that I got my true unconditional best friend 11 years prior and then I had to say, ‘you’ve done all you could, you can’t continue to live, I’m going to do you a favor and let you go so you don’t suffer’? I know I would have wanted someone to do the same for me if I had been Chief. I think he may have done that for me to be honest. I loved the dog so much I finally grew the courage to let him go so he could be eternally happy.

I got up and felt like I couldn’t be around his dead body or I would throw up. I tried to get myself up and to calm myself down. The vet asked me if I had someone to drive me or if I could get an Uber. I said yes. I lied. I got back in my car and drove myself home. While I was driving, I went into shock because I don’t remember where I parked the car. I called my sister and then I came home. And while I’m not proud of how I handled it, I began drinking copious amounts of alcohol.

I drank and cried for 3 days. A friend came to cheer me up but he was an idiot. I asked him to take me to my local bar where the bartenders are my friends. Many points in the evening, I started crying at the bar and the bartenders would give me a hug and tell me it was going to be alright. They would even give me a shot. They were good friends. Then one of the times where I broke down, this so-called friend told me that “he was just a dog and that I needed to get over it.” Months later, the bar manager told me that he wanted to kick that guy out because he was not being nice to me and was not a nice friend. He had no compassion. This also the same so-called friend that before going to this bar, took me to a strip club. No amount of naked women was going to console me and the pain that I was experiencing. I would eventually distance myself from this friend (something Chief would have wanted me to do).

My dad began to worry that I would over imbibe, poison myself and that he was going to come down to be with me. I told him I would stop drinking and that I would take a trip with my Chicago friends to go to Mexico so I could get out of the house and change scenery. Through a lot of therapy and work, I now realize drinking is not good for coping. It makes things worse. It may even come back worse once you sober up.

But at the time, I didn’t know how else to find relief. One of the lessons I’ve learned since then is to “feel the feelings” even if incredibly tough to do. Especially because feelings feel like a wave where you feel sad one moment, then you think you’re going to be ok and then another wave of sadness washes over you. I’d like to also highlight my relationship with alcohol is now healthy and I’m more mindful of imbibing for celebrations, nice dinners, a birthday party, a day at the beach. It’s not for coping. Chief passing would kickstart a series of events that laid the foundation for some of my deepest work and healing.

A year after Chief’s departure, I thought I would celebrate his anniversary the weekend prior to August 8th. Once August 8th came, I felt like I was fine and worked. I had a very important meeting with some clients and had a crucial presentation to give. Towards the end of the meeting, my mind went blank and I started not making sense. I felt like my mouth couldn’t open. We finished that call and my boss asked me why I was sounding weird. I said that I wasn’t feeling that great but I wanted to work and power through. He called me and told me I needed to take time off. I pleaded for him to let me work. I didn’t want to not work and face Chief’s death again. Well, it was exactly what I had to do and this time I also needed to address some of my darkest insecurities, fears and inner narratives.

I had been to therapy in the past and knew how helpful it could be to talk to a professional. I found Joseph. We worked together for over 9 months and he helped me process Chief’s passing and address my negative self-talk, my relationships, my business, my self-image and left me with tools to manage my depression and anxiety. Til this day, I still use the same techniques he taught me. He even made me imagine how Chief would want me to see myself the way he, a German shepherd rescue, would see me. I finally began to treat myself with compassion, kindness and love…. the way Chief would treat me.

I’ve never written out these details but I’ve wanted to do so for the last three years and having a blog where I’m not worried about what my “followers” will think of me is really liberating, cathartic and therapeutic. It’s been 3 years and I still miss Chief dearly. I think about him all the time. I didn’t want another dog. But life has a funny way of putting dogs inside the lives of people who either need them the most or who could use a reminder about what is important in the grand scheme of things.

His departure may sting less but how much I miss him feels like it will never go away. Chief will always be my sweetest boy. I love you Chief.

What I ate in Spain and Portugal