Sadly, I have recently been on the receiving end of this sentiment – or better yet – lack thereof.
You see, I lost my fur-girl.
My Sage, my “Sage 5 Clinger”—my perfect-in-pink, perfectly pink sandy blonde lady, green-eyed girl. My Velcro passenger princess who was my 2020 rescue – but as the saying goes… “who saved who?”
I remember the day I got her. The night before, my dog-loving childhood best friend, who had recently passed away a couple months prior, came to me in a vivid dream. In a moment of extreme low, she laughed at me and said “girl, you need a dog!” Indeed, I did. So, I got up that morning and researched a few shelters online and decided to go check it out.
I arrived there with an idea that I wanted an older, lazy, smaller boy, because I had heard boys tend to bond better with women. Welp… long story short… after a few tries and realizing I did not have the physical strength necessary for the good boys they had at the shelter, I started expanding on my expectations – size matters.
I walked around aimlessly looking at all the fur-babes, mostly bully breeds. All of them looking like they could take me down immediately to chase a squirrel and I knew better than to bite off more than I could chew… or so I thought.
Suddenly, in the far back corner, I see this smaller “pocket pit” as she was aptly called compared to the rest, named “Mandy” and she immediately started barking at me. There was something demanding in her voice. So, I asked to see her. She came right up to me, looked in my purse for food, sampled my sunglasses, dropped them on the floor and went right back to the gate as if to say “Guards, come get me, this peasant doesn’t have any treats and therefore isn’t worth my time.”
Joke was on us. Before they could collect Her Royal Highness, Mandy, they were already doing the paperwork to get her fixed and ready to come home with me.
“Mandy” had the same sad story like many of her breed. She was bred to breed – used for her genes and then disposed of once she could no longer bear fruit, left to die.
“Just fostering, right?” I kept repeating. “Yes, yes!” The tired but kind volunteer assured me. Another joke.
On that first drive home, she imprinted on my soul. She put her head on my shoulder as if to say “thank you for getting me out of there,” something she continued to do on our car rides until the very end.
I had always wanted a dog named Sage. Naturally it was at the top of my list, but I wondered if she was more of a “Cleo” because she was in absolute denial that she was a dog. I wanted to make sure it matched her personality. So, I called one of my closest friends, who almost scared me with her resounding “YASSS!” before I could even finish my sentence.
At that moment of pure joy and excitement, I called out: “Sage!” and the way she turned around, with such conviction — I knew she was never going back.
From the moment that demanding diva marched right up to my purse, like an entitled two-year-old who knows no better than “mommy has goodies in there” – I was a goner.
Sage got what she wanted. I would say it was methodical. She was “keep your eyes on the prize” epitomized. She could magically make food fall right into her mouth – you had to see it to believe it. It became the running joke when and if we had guests.
In these little princessy ways, she reminded me to never settle and know my worth – because she wasn’t going to settle for less, which meant I didn’t have the right to either.
Sage had high demands — and vocals — and an intuitively unconditional capacity to love. She was my dream dog. I got her in September and they had her birthday as 9/9/2018 so we went with it. And she really was a Virgo in dog-form. Such an analytical, intuitive, slightly judge-y but adorable, and CLEAN little lady, with the perfect pink ears and extra feminine features.
Sage kept me warm during the coldest seasons of my life. She was my co-pilot and I rarely left the house without her, something she loved as much as treats – a free ride to an adventure.
We were in the car for the last time on May 8th 2026, Mother’s Day weekend, we were en route to surprise my mom when Sage put her head on my shoulder for the last time. She collapsed into oblivion, straddling two worlds. It was cancer, the kind they called “the silent killer.” The tumor I never knew existed had ruptured. The veterinarian callously compared my tragic loss to acquiring a losing lottery ticket. I had to make the tough call no one should ever have to make.
I never dreamed that on that day, while I was casually getting ready for our trip – it would be our last. I went in with my girl and came out with her signature pink and teal delicious monster collar and tears. My nightmare of losing Sage had become real.
The sky cried with me that night and it was the only sound to drown out the deafening silence where the sound of curious and demanding pitter-patter paws used to be. My heart and home were shattered with stories we would never make and happy memories that had overnight become painful keepsakes.
To the people who say “it’s just a pet” I say “for those who don’t have children, they are our children.” They are family and when they die, it’s not like losing a family member, it is losing a family member.
The expectation for people to just get over the loss of a furry or scaly family member is mind-boggling. The personal offense I experienced after the loss of my four-legged baby added insult to injury. When I was finally able to talk about it, and started reaching out to people I knew who were in volunteer spaces for example, in hopes of filling up the time I would usually spend with my girl – I was met with insensitive comments like “now that you have time…” or “would you be interested in dog-sitting?”
No, Debra. I just lost my baby I don’t want to come take care of yours.
It has been astonishing to me, that somehow, in my home, the United States of all places, there is such a lack of empathy in a country that enjoys privileges clearly taken for granted, that most countries consider luxury – yet we lack basic empathy. Simply put, as a nation, we have not been exposed to enough proximate threats to be so cruel and desensitized towards the human condition and all life. If we feel so confident to call ourselves leaders in freedom and democracy, then we must also set the example and be leaders in humanity, first and foremost.
Sage saved me. She gave me purpose. She was family, my fur-baby. She deserves this proper send-off.
And pet-parents deserve a true safe place and the emotional space while navigating a new normal. Period. End of discussion. Case closed.
To Sage, my golden ray of light in the darkest hours: If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever. Thank you, my girl, for the unconditional love and endless laughs. The world is less bright and oh so boring without you. I’ll never be the same and I’ll love you my whole life.
To anyone who has ever lost a pet and didn’t feel seen – I see you. To anyone who has lost their baby – human or any other species – I hope you are given the space and grace to grieve in peace.
Also…
(PLEASE!) Adopt, don’t shop – and, kindly, don’t bully my breed.