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Taryn, my heart is broken without you. But we had a wonderful 15 years together. And I can’t wait until I see you again. Until we do, have fun playing with Jax and Toby.

—Barbara Eagleton

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This morning I saw a stranger walking their dog. I had to fight the urge to run up and tell them that I, too, have a dog, but he died on Sunday.

At 15-years old, Timber was still so goofy and excitable that strangers often asked if he was a puppy. Timber did, in fact, seem ageless and invincible, having cheated death time and again. He once accidentally jumped off a 20-ft cliff into the bay, only to emerge wholly intact seconds later.

Two years ago, Timber was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. His prognosis gave him only months to live; yet Timber’s heart ticked on faithfully past his 14th and then 15th birthday.

Last week when Timber began trembling intermittently, I wasn’t particularly concerned. “He always bounces back,” I told my husband . “You’ll see.”

Nevertheless, I took him to the veterinary hospital where they ran a few tests. The emergency vet called back with gloomy news, but I was incredulous.

“His bloodwork was normal at his checkup just last month,” I explained to the vet. I was trying to argue our way back to relative health, with dubious logic and formidable optimism.

This optimism is perhaps something I learned from Timber. He was the CEO of blind optimism. Each morning when I’d head out for work, Timber followed at my heels, confident that today would be the day he’d be going too. Fed kibbles his entire life, he nonetheless regarded anything I would eat something he could reasonably expect to share in.

It took several more discussions with the vet before I understood we had reached the end of viable treatment options.

I took Timber out of the hospital to get ice cream. This good, good boy, who waited so many years for such delicacies, could now manage only a few feeble licks. I threw away our ice creams and brought him back to the hospital.

It’s been 5 days now. In his absence, there is bewilderment and grief. There’s relief too if I’m honest — caretaking his illnesses over the last few years was onerous and expensive — and there’s also guilt over that relief.

Most of all, there is gratitude. Thank you, Timber, for sharing your life with me. For being the most intimate witness to my adulthood. For the optimism you had in me when I wasn’t always able to find it myself. Love you, and miss you dearly, my good boy.

—Charlene Chen

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Dear Dr. Phil,

My beloved little angel I am so thankful for the short time we spent together. Thank you for being my best friend and always being there for me. I really miss you everyday and I can’t wait to meet you again.

—Mimi

👀 Click here to see Taryn, Timber, and Dr. Phil with friends