14 years of being my beautiful boy

TL;DR Four weeks ago, and after 14 years and 22 days on this Earth, it was time for me to say farewell to my best friend that had to go.

Growing up, I had many extended family and friends with dogs. Albeit sporadic, I loved visiting them to hang out with their dogs—to play, to pat, and to have my ADHD energy matched by a being that never made me feel I was “too much”. At 24, I got to experience that every day after adopting Eisen and it was amazing.

As the years went on, we had countless little adventures: walks where he’d sniff everything, to the beach to dive into the surf when he’d chase his ball like a bullet, exploring new parks and trails for the hell of it, and meeting strangers who wanted to give him a pat. I loved giving him those experiences because we got to share them together.

Eisen would have health setbacks in his latter half of his life, but he’d always bounce back. We’d tackle obstacle courses and more challenging walks to help rebuild his strength after surgeries. At vet visits, he‘d impress them with his progress, particularly when he hit double digits. I gave him every appropriate treatment and intervention available, but I knew there’d one day be a prognosis that would be hard to sit with.

After a rough and stormy night for Eisen where we ended up sleeping outside, he woke up on his last day to a clear blue sky, watching Mum in the garden. I woke to four prodding limbs pressing into me as he stretched himself awake. He enjoyed a few bits of chicken and even a Doritos chip or two—I’ve always loved the crisp sound of him crunching down on each chip.

In the morning, Eisen relaxed in the shade, breathing in the scents of the garden. By afternoon, he felt the sun on his fur as he took his last breath, and I felt his final heartbeat as he drifted away. It began to rain after he left…a little dramatic but cool.

Eisen passed peacefully on the 10th of August 2025 at home. Although this wasn’t the plan, I knew waiting another 24 hours would have led us down an unnecessary path—one where his life ended before anyone could say goodbye, and where he’d be in pain I couldn’t massage away.

I feel privileged to have heard his high-pitched squeals whenever someone walked through the front door, to have been woken by his 3AM barking at a gecko, to have seen him launch for a ball and push off into your foot, and even to have picked up his poop—including the times the bag had a hole.

There are so many things that I miss about him, but I really miss how he’d rest his chin on my held out palm. He’d let me cradle the weight of his head while he relaxed—he’d let me do that for as long as I can remember.

I miss you, Goofy.

Eisen (2011–2025)