The Bestest Boy

I knew that from the time we took Owen home from the hospital following his bout of pneumonia in April 2022 that we were on borrowed time. His slower movements and greying face were reminders that he was aging quickly, and that one day, he would have to pass from this lifetime. But as the months went by and Owen picked up more of his youthful energy, especially after losing some of the weight that he picked up over the years, it almost seemed as though, even at 13, we would still have years of adventures to look forward to.

But this hope was not realized. On Saturday, May 27, 2023, as we were preparing for an outdoor celebration in honor of our son, I noticed that Owen was wheezing a bit while following me around the yard. We had just cut the back lawn, and I hoped that letting him inside away from the allergens and into the air conditioning would help his breathing. He had always had some susceptibility to pollens in large amounts, and in the past, bringing him in helped to calm him. This time though, that was not the case. We knew that he needed help, and we rushed him to the first emergency veterinary hospital that could take him. While he had to be intubated, he had shown some improvement as evening approached and he was able to rest comfortably overnight.

Then came the grey morning. At 5:43 on Sunday, I received the call that no pet family ever wants to hear. Owen’s condition had worsened, his breathing could not be regulated, and he would have to be re-intubated. It is difficult for me to write, that as the veterinarian began talking about his odds with all that had become stacked against him, and his quality of life if he would even have a chance of recovery- I knew in my heart that the kind thing to do would be to allow him to pass peacefully. But the right thing was not the easy thing, and I felt my heart shatter as I realized that I’d have to soon say goodbye. I asked her to keep him comfortable while we got dressed and drove to the hospital in Los Angeles.

I acknowledge that Owen’s death was not a tragedy; that indeed it is the natural course of life. He was an estimated 13.5 years old, a nice old age for a retriever, and he had a great life. He went on many adventures: trips to Yosemite and Joshua Tree National Parks, to the Santa Monica Mountains Recreation Areas, to the dog beaches at Leo Carrillo and Huntington, and many other parks and trails. He enjoyed many Starbucks pup cups and Handel’s frosty paws and treats. He made friends with everyone he met, and his happy attitude brightened the days of many. Owen was the embodiment of joy with golden fur and a constantly wagging tail.

He blessed our family for over ten years, and in many ways, grew up with the kids. I recall them all chasing each other when they were smaller and playing games in the backyard, with one rowdy basketball game resulting in Owen partially tearing his ACL, earning him two weeks inside and a ‘cone of shame.’ He saw us through the good times as well as some really difficult ones- the loss of my father, struggles with mental health, a global pandemic. Owen was a constant even as the world was crashing down, and he loved without judgment. He was the best big brother to the bunnies, and our house felt like home with him in the yard.

I am thankful for the time. For the extra year, for the over ten years. But an abundance of gratitude does not mean the absence of grief, and sometimes it is because we have loved someone so much that the goodbye is that much harder. I was there at the beginning of Owen’s journey with our family, and I had the painful privilege to be there at its end. Owen crossed the rainbow bridge into the land of infinite treats and tennis balls on Sunday, May 28, 2023 at LAASER in Los Angeles. He was surrounded by his family and his favorite toys, and even at the end, he was a happy guy. He had lived a long, full life- one with joy, love, and treats.

At time of posting, I am early in the grief process. I still open the back door slowly because the back steps were a favorite spot and I don’t want to hit him. I have to remind myself that he will not be in the yard when I arrive home from work. I have no regrets, other than that a dog’s years are so short. It is difficult to believe that he is gone, that all I would leave the hospital with was a vial of his golden fur and our memories- so many memories. Of the silly pup who came home from the Pasadena Humane Society long ago, who pawed his way into our hearts and journeyed with us over the next decade and brought us laughter and love and hope even in the darkest times. I remember how on his cage hung a sign that read “I will love you forever.” He loved us for the rest of his days. I pray he knew how much he was loved- how much he is still loved.

I think Lilo and Stitch said it best: Family means nobody gets left behind- or forgotten. I don’t think I can ever forget you, Owen Parker Allen Haas. You were the bestest boy.