On March 9th, I moved from Arizona to Durango, Colorado, with my beloved dog, Goliath. I had an intuitive feeling—one I couldn’t shake—that his time with me was nearing its end. He had been my steadfast companion for almost ten years, helping me navigate one of the most difficult chapters of my life, including my last divorce. And now, as I embarked on a new journey, I had this deep knowing that his final purpose was to escort me home.
What I wasn’t prepared for was just how soon that would happen. On March 18th, just nine days after we arrived in Colorado, Goliath passed away.
This loss has been incredibly difficult, not just because he was my dog, but because he was my protector, my adventure partner, and my family. I’ve had to face his death alone, in a new town where I haven’t yet built a community. There have been no shoulders to cry on, no one to hug me as I grieve. Just me, sitting with the silence, honoring the weight of his absence.
The Story of Goliath
Goliath came into my life in 2015 when I was living in Pojoaque, New Mexico, with my ex-husband. At the time, I was lonely—my husband traveled frequently for work, leaving me alone in a neighborhood where I felt unsafe. We had neighbors involved in drugs and violence, and after months of feeling on edge, we decided I should get a dog.
We searched for rescues in Albuquerque, and while I initially had another dog in mind, my husband chose Goliath—then named Bubba. He came from a family that was going through a divorce, and looking back, I suspect there was some trauma in his past. He had protective tendencies from the very beginning, especially toward me.
The day I told my ex-husband that I wanted a divorce, Goliath sat on my foot, staring him down, silently telling him, You will not hurt my mom. Even though he adored my ex, in that moment, he knew his role. He had an innate ability to protect and love fiercely.
Over the years, we traveled together constantly—road trips, national parks, moments of pure adventure and joy. He became a part of my identity, a symbol of my independence and resilience. When I made the decision to move back to Colorado, I thought I had more time with him—maybe a few more months. I never expected that his final adventure would be bringing me home, only to leave me so soon.
Our Last Days Together
Sunday was one of those rare, perfect days. It was warm and sunny in Durango, and I took Goliath to a massive dog park by the river—the same one we had visited on a road trip in 2023. He loved it then, and on Sunday, he was full of life. He ran, he played, he looked back at me as if to say, Come on, let’s go! It was as if, for a brief moment, he felt young again.
I thought this was a sign that he was doing better. I was excited about how happy he seemed. But in reality, he was rallying—one final burst of energy before his body began to shut down.
The next morning, everything changed. He started vomiting blood. By Tuesday, he had deteriorated so much that he could barely stand. I had to make the heartbreaking decision to let him go. I sat with him, petting him through his last breaths, grateful that I could be by his side, even as my heart shattered.
Grieving Alone
Losing a pet is devastating under any circumstances, but grieving in isolation has been especially hard. My daughter has been supportive from afar, but physically, I’ve had to sit with this pain alone. There’s no one to hug me, no one to share the quiet moments of grief. Just me and the overwhelming silence.
I’ve found small ways to take care of myself—taking walks along the river, writing, and allowing myself to cry when the waves of grief hit. Yesterday, I stood across the river from the dog park, looking at the ridge where we had walked just days before. It was painful, but I knew in my heart that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Honoring the Journey
Grief is not something we can rush through. I’ve been allowing myself to sit in it, to honor it, but not to marinate in it. I’ve been reminded that healing doesn’t mean forgetting. It means cherishing the love and memories while allowing ourselves to move forward.
Goliath’s passing has opened doors that I had put off for so long. Without him, I no longer have an excuse to delay my dreams—traveling, speaking engagements, even a TED Talk I’ve been meaning to pursue. I’ve also started writing a book, not just about our adventures, but about this grief journey, in hopes that it will help someone else navigate their own loss.
The Lessons He Left Behind
Our pets love us unconditionally, without judgment, without conditions. They teach us about presence, loyalty, and joy. Goliath’s final gift to me was bringing me home, and though it hurts more than I can put into words, I know it happened exactly as it was meant to.
To anyone out there who has lost a pet, I see you. I understand the emptiness, the way their absence is felt in every quiet moment. Be kind to yourself. Allow yourself to grieve in whatever way feels right.
And most importantly, never regret loving them. Because every cherished memory is worth the pain of their loss.
Goliath, you truly were the best dog of all time. Thank you for everything.
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