A tribute to my puppy companion, Lincoln
July of this year, I lost my best friend and loyal dog companion, Lincoln, who died after a short but fierce battle with a rare cancer. He was a friendly, brave, compassionate, adorable, and incredibly loyal thirteen year old Shetland Sheepdog.
It may sound cliche (and maybe a little sad) to say that Lincoln was my closest companion and best friend — but it really was true. I mean, I do have human best friends, but as far as the friend there with and for me at all times — Lincoln won the battle for that title.
We adopted Lincoln when he was a young puppy. His birth father was a show dog, and most of his birth siblings would go on to become show dogs. However, Lincoln was the runt of his litter (ironically given how he would grow to become a rather large Sheltie), and so dog shows were not in his future. He was a little shy at times, and not always the bravest when he was younger, but he was very loyal right from the start and made fast friends with my other dog companion at the time, Tribble.
He grew up while I was living and working in the Washington, DC area — and ultimately did not prove to be a big fan of apartment life. Fortunately, that did not last long and we soon relocated to my birth state of Michigan and he spent the remainder of his years in houses with yards.
When my elder dog companion, Tribble, passed away, Lincoln was also noticeably impacted and became a big part of my recovery from that loss. When my partner of nearly 13 years left a few years later, he was an even larger part of my recovery from what was essentially a divorce.
In the months following my “divorce”, I relocated to the San Francisco Bay Area where Lincoln truly became my closest companion and he really grew into his role as an elder statesdog. A little uncertain of the masses of new humans at first, once he learned many were eager to give him positive attention and treats, he quickly came around.
Lincoln became a frequent guest and one of the mascots of our office. He hosted a public monthly meeting, and was a regular at staff office parties — sometimes in costume! He was even the inspiration for the name and imagery of the bot created to maintain one of our websites.
Now look, I get it, if I had a child, this might have played out differently. But we are all living our own lives with the cards we are dealt, so, let us move on. 😜
He took trips with me across the country, becoming a cooperative participant in airline checks and subway stops. Generally when I was within the United States, he was not far behind. All of this became possible when my therapist at the time brought up the notion of an emotional support animal.
Now, the notion of emotional support animal designation sounded like a reasonable idea, but I was more interested in the practical advantages this therapy provided than accepting I was already benefiting from my dog companion in my regular mental healthcare. It seemed logical to me that I was receiving benefits, but I was not necessarily sure those benefits had become pivotal to my mental healthcare. I was wrong, but more on that later.
Lincoln enjoyed taking hikes, barking at the ocean waves at the Bay Area beaches, or cooling off and drinking from the world’s largest watering bowls (known to humans as the Great Lakes). If there were not other people or dogs around he needed to herd instead, he enjoyed chasing after a small tennis small or squeaky dog toy. He was fine on or off a leash, but did bark and jump when he thought there was danger nearby.
He loved snacks, particularly human snacks, and had no problem giving you puppy eyes to convince you it was a good idea to share such snacks. Lincoln liked watching television with me on the bed, and was caught napping in my office chair on more than one occasion. He pushed his food out of his dog bowl before eating it, and seemed to be both aware of and comfortable with being a weird dog. He knew he was a lapdog, and he seemed to know he came from a family of show dogs — even prancing at random times of joy.
In short, Lincoln was a good boy.
Check out these photos from Lincoln’s adventures over the years:
Everyone knows their pet companions will not live forever, and indeed Lincoln had over the years shown some signs of his elder statesdog status. Notably, his joints were getting stiff and his interests shifted from fetch to naps. He went in for annual checkups, always got things treated when vets recommended it, and had various treatments over the final years of his life. Generally, he was a healthy senior dog.
I became aware during a roadtrip in late April 2021 that during his pending annual checkup, things might get interesting as he suddenly needed help going long distances. I made an appointment as soon as possible, and in the months following, a surprisingly expensive venture that felt like it took years commenced with the goals of identify what was going on and do whatever was needed to get Lincoln going again. While there were symptoms, he was not ultimately showing truly troubling signs until his final week, sadly just a day after he was formally diagnosed with a rare form of cancer.
Fortunately, I was privileged enough to have access to the emotional, family, workplace, and financial support and resources necessary to provide Lincoln with whatever treatment and hospitalization was suggested to help him survive and hopefully once again thrive. I feel good about the professionals involved and all of the things tried and how he responded and behaved throughout.
There were times when things were looking up, but ultimately, all of the amazing advancements in technology and medicine just were not enough to change the trajectory of this particular outcome. So early in the morning of 29 July 2021, after speaking with Lincoln’s doctors and my Mom on the phone, I made a difficult drive to his animal hospital. By this point, he was only able to breath and be comfortable in a chamber just larger than him essentially filled with oxygen. I met my Mom at the hospital, signed some paperwork, paid some bills, and then joined him one last time. After listening to instructions from his doctor, I reached into his little oxygen chamber, hugged him, held his paws, and looked into Lincoln’s eyes one last time as I said goodbye to him and he said goodbye to his time here. It was one of the hardest moments of my life.
I knew going in the aftermath would be difficult, and that the pandemic and just the mounting emotional situation building globally would add some unknowns to how everything would play out. What I did not expect, was that much like going off your medication because you think everything is fine — only to realize the medicine was enabling that to happen, the loss of my emotional support animal made me appreciate how woven into my mental healthcare he had become and made recovering from the loss even more challenging.
Possibly I will write more about my experience and evolving thoughts on emotional support animals and therapy dogs. Simply put, my advocacy of these therapy tactics has grown exponentially.
It has been several years since Tribble died, and I have not been able to bring myself to watch a movie (or sometimes TV episode) with a plot revolving around a dog. I just do not want to mix entertainment with memories of that loss when the inevitable death, loss, or near death scene happens. I am sure the new Clifford the Big Red Dog film is splendid — but it could be years before I will know for sure.
I still wake up and have a few seconds of sadness when I realize Lincoln is not there to greet me. I still find myself wondering if I let him out long enough before I left the house. I still think about and miss my little buddy every day, and know that I always will.
With time, it has gotten easier, as is the case with such things. For example, I could not bring myself to author this post the first few months after Lincoln’s passing, but today it feels more therapeutic than triggering. Similarly, it was only today that I was able to finish a photo album of my favorite pictures of Lincoln — just over 400 out of thousands (also available in this post). I felt reasonably calm and confident that we had done everything possible, but inevitably in those first few days and weeks, my thoughts focused on the negative. Today, it is almost exclusively positive thoughts and memories. I know Lincoln had a good life, and I know he saw the positive impact he had on my life.
Moving on is never easy, and I am working on a post about the transition specifically and welcoming a new puppy companion into my life. The good news is that this story does have a happy ending. My Mom talks about how your past pet companions send your future pet companions your way. Again, it sounds cliche, but I think it may actually be true if you open yourself to that idea. Lincoln’s final gift to me was helping me find the newest member of our family, Teddy Roosevelt Varnum. Thank you, Lincoln, for your many gifts and our tremendously joyful time together. I love you, and I will miss you.
Stay tuned for more details, photos, and lessons from welcoming Teddy to the Varnum family.
