How I loved my first dog too much.

And the four simple lessons her death taught me about life.

Two days shy of her 12th birthday my first dog Sally passed away from a very rough (for both of us), eight-month battle with canine bladder cancer. On May 15th of this year, my partner and I marked the fourth anniversary of her passing with a Yuhrzeit candle (I’m not Jewish, my partner is, so we joke that she was half Jewish) that burned for three days and ended with me finally finding grace and blessings in her death.

During those first few weeks after she passed, I barely got out of bed except to eat bags of Skinny Popcorn and drink tequila in my backyard next to our St. Francis statue.

A friend once told me after his dog passed, “Yeah, you’re sad for two to three days and then it just kind of passes.” Not exactly my story. For four years, I couldn’t say Sally’s name without crying. Now I can.

About a month after she passed, I started selling the venison treats I’d made for Sally during the cancer battle on Amazon and named them Sally Snacks. They took off right out of the gate. A year later, a close friend invested in the company and I thought we were going to be the next Stella and Chewy’s. Unfortunately, my friend/partner and I became the cautionary tale of the “Don’t go into business with a friend” cliche and I kept the business going on my…