I'm Writing a Story of Love

Editor’s Note: Jess here. A few weeks after we said goodbye to our family dog, Humphrey, my mom sent me an email that began with these simple words: "I'm writing a story of love." What follows is her reflection on 16 years with the little red poodle who helped her navigate life's greatest joys, losses, and the impossible decision that comes with loving a dog long enough.

This story began with a curly, red miniature poodle who stretched himself across my lap the first time we met. To say it was love at first sight would be an understatement.

We named him Humphrey.

He came to us from a nurse in San Diego who loved him dearly. Before she entrusted him to our family, she looked me in the eye and said, “I’m not just giving him to anyone. I really need to make sure he goes to someone who loves him a lot.”

She had nothing to worry about.

What followed was 16 years of a love story unlike any other.

Humphrey attached himself to me both literally and figuratively. If I left the house, he would wait by the window for my return. When I came home, he greeted me as though we’d been apart for years rather than hours.

The truth is that we needed each other.

Humphrey was there through some of the happiest and hardest chapters of my life. He was with me when I lost my parents. He was with me when my husband lost his parents. During those seasons of grief, Humphrey couldn’t offer advice or explanations. He simply curled up beside me and stayed.

His presence was its own language.

Over the years, there were vacations and business trips that forced us apart. We left him at kennels when we had no other choice, but I could never wait to get back to him. Humphrey wasn’t just my dog.

He was my heart.

For most of his life, Humphrey seemed ageless. Even as the years accumulated, he remained himself.

Then, around 15, things began to change.

His eyes grew cloudy. His walks slowed. At 16, he lost his wag.

That was the moment that broke me.

Sometimes he would stand quietly facing a wall. Other times he would walk in circles. Yet he still ate. He still drank. He still wanted to be near us. We adapted our lives around his needs without hesitation.

We took him outside throughout the night.

We hand-fed him.

We pushed him in a stroller when walking became difficult.

We even took him to eight National Parks because we couldn’t imagine experiencing those adventures without him.

I would have sacrificed every night of sleep for the rest of my life if it meant keeping him comfortable.

The turning point came when Humphrey could no longer stand on his own.

A few weeks ago, he developed severe pancreatitis and kidney failure. We rushed him to the veterinarian, hoping for another miracle.

Instead, we were asked to consider the unthinkable.

We cried.

And cried.

And then I said goodbye.

In that moment, it felt as though a light inside me went out.

Walking away from Humphrey was one of the hardest things I have ever done. After a lifetime of devotion, I had to accept that love could no longer fix what age had taken away.

That’s the heartbreaking truth of loving a dog long enough.

I didn’t want to let go.