My Soul Dog

We got some hard news last week. After Diesel’s foot surgery, the results came back: soft tissue sarcoma. Cancer. The vet felt good about the surgery and confident that they got it all, which gives us hope — but hearing the word “cancer” still feels like the air has been knocked out of me. If it has spread, it’s an aggressive type, and that reality is heavy to sit with.

But in the middle of that weight, I’ve found myself reflecting on everything this big, goofy, soulful dog has been to me.

Diesel wasn’t always the solid, steady sweet presence he is today. When I first brought him home, as a rescue — he was a complete mess. Skittish, nervous, 20 pounds underweight, eyes darting around like the world was way too much for him to handle. He was scared of everything, and to be honest, I was too. I was in my twenties, anxious, unsure of myself, and trying to figure out who I was. In so many ways, Diesel and I were mirrors of each other — both a little broken, both just looking for safety, both desperate for someone to believe in us.

And slowly, together, we healed.

Over the years, he found his happiness, and I found mine. He grew into his giant, goofy, horse–hippo–moose self, full of love, full of presence, full of joy. And I grew into a woman who could handle heartbreak, change, motherhood, and all the twists and turns life threw my way.

Through it all, Diesel has been my constant. He has lived through three relationships, two different cities, a new baby, a marriage, seven moves, six jobs, and countless tears. He’s been there through the nights I cried myself to sleep and the mornings I woke up determined to try again. He’s been there for milestones I’ll never forget — the first time I held my son, the day I got married, the moves that felt like new beginnings. No matter what, Diesel has always been at my side.

The love and comfort he’s given me in his lifetime is unparalleled. He’s my soul dog.

If you’ve ever had a soul dog, you know it’s something you can’t put neatly into words. It’s the bond that holds steady no matter what storms life throws at you. It’s the quiet understanding when you’re sad and they curl up beside you, leaning their weight against you like they’re holding you together. It’s the unmatched joy of seeing their tail wag when you come home, no matter how long or short you’ve been gone. It’s loyalty, unconditional and pure.

Diesel has been that for me. When the world felt heavy, he reminded me I wasn’t alone. When life felt joyful, he celebrated alongside me. He’s been more than a pet — he’s been family, comfort, protection, and unconditional love all rolled into one.

Now, as I face this diagnosis with him, I know I can’t measure our time by years or maybe even months. I have to measure it by little moments. Every walk. Every snuggle. Every goofy smile he gives me. Every time he rests his head in my lap like he’s done thousands of times before.

The truth is, I don’t know how much time we have left. But I do know this: every moment from here on out is an even greater gift.

Diesel isn’t just my dog. He was my anxious, nervous, clingy, underweight, scared to death rescue dog who needed someone to believe in him — and he became my soul dog, the one who carried me through becoming myself.

And no matter what the future holds, the love he’s given me will live in me forever.