March 11, 2009 is a day I will never forget. It was the day I said goodbye to one of the greatest friends I have ever known.

His name was Yeager, named after the famous test pilot. In 1996, I was in a community college, working my ass off to get into a major university with the hopes of becoming a U.S. Navy fighter pilot. Back then, I had dreams of becoming a Blue Angel, then going to test pilot school and eventually off to NASA to fly the space shuttle.

Then fate stepped in.

I saw Yeager in a holding pen at PetSmart. I was there to buy fish food and filters for the tank. He was all alone, the last of a litter of mutts who had been carelessly tossed into a dumpster by a breeder who’s prized black lab had met up with a springer spaniel. In that person’s eyes, those puppies were a waste.

A kind soul collected the starving and terrified pups and brought them to an animal shelter. The puppies were herded off lovingly to PetSmart, in the hopes that someone with a heart and a place in their life for true friendship would take them in. I was not looking for a new pet that day. I was certainly not looking for a dog. I was renting a townhome and my landlord nearly freaked when he found out I had fish. But, I walked over to the holding pen to see why this one puppy, the last of his brothers and sisters, was still there, waiting for someone to show up and be his pal.

I picked him up, and rather than licking my face excitedly, or peeing all over me like all the other puppies, Yeager plopped his head on my shoulder and almost fell asleep. I could feel his warm puppy breath on my neck and wondered what he was thinking. The initial thought of having a little buddy was kinda cool, but I just knew my landlord would freak, so I put him back, and walked out of the store.

I had about a 25-minute drive home, and could not shake my thoughts of Yeager. When I got home, I called my landlord and chuckled a nervous request to bring an untrained puppy into his newly-renovated townhome. I thought, if anything, hopefully he’d just hang up on me.

The next thing I knew I was racing down the freeway for PetSmart, shifting gears and changing lanes as if in a Hollywood high-speed pursuit. My landlord’s words echoed in my ear, “No problem…just sign an agreement and pay a pet deposit…” You’ve got to be kidding me. I screeched into he parking lot and ran in the store with the keys still in the ignition. I saw him there, waiting. I signed the papers and took him home.

The next thirteen years were years of total friendship. When I struggled through college, Yeager was there. He didn’t care that I failed Calculus II. Twice. He loved me when I gained acceptance into flight school. He traveled with me from coast to coast. He held vigil over me when I came within tenths of a point of realizing me dream of becoming a fighter pilot, only to fall short. He celebrated with me when I eventually graduated with my Navy Wings of Gold. He waited patiently while I deployed to Afghanistan. He waited for me and protected my wife and daughter when I deployed for my third war, this time on the ground in Iraq.

When I made the decision to pursue my dream of entrepreneurship, he loved me unconditionally. When I fell flat on my face, he loved me. When I had literally thousands of phones slammed in my ear with the harsh words of rejection, he loved me. When I was in the pit, scared and doubting myself, he loved me. When I staged my comeback, he was there with his undying love.

And though I vowed I would do anything for Yeager, I couldn’t stop him from getting sick and losing weight. I spent dollar after dollar trying to find out why my best friend, the one who had always been there for me, and always fought like a brave to protect me, wasn’t fighting to live anymore.

I had the toughest decision of my life one year ago today.

I sat on the floor of the veterinarian’s office, Yeager in my arms. The doctor was amazing. She told me I was about to give Yeager the greatest gift a human could give, aside from the gift of a good life; the gift of a peaceful passing. She gave him the injection, and I could feel him slip away. His breath slowly dissipated, as I remembered what it felt like on my neck 13 years before. He was so peaceful, so serene, so free.

His pain was finally gone, but mine was monumental. I sobbed like a little boy for days. Losing Yeager was tough, and at times I felt paralyzed with grief. It was only through the love of my wife Mia and my kids Callie and Max (and some pretty great human friends) that I soon began to smile again.

My daughter Callie still talks about Yeager to this day. I still see him in pictures on my screen saver. And every now and then, if I’m at peace, he’ll drop by in my dreams. I always wake up feeling stronger when Yeager drops by. I’m hoping he comes tonight, because I really, really miss him.

I am so grateful to have had my incredible friendship with Yeager. It spanned 13 years; nearly a third of my life and almost all of his. We had lots of fun together, conquered challenges together, but most of all really loved each other.

I am grateful to the breeder who ignored true magic when he tossed Yeager and his siblings into that dumpster. I am grateful to my landlord for giving me permission to take Yeager in. I am grateful to all the veterinarians, caregivers, petsitters, family, friends and other dogs who helped make Yeager happy and comfortable when I could not.

My prayer for you is that you, too, feel the love and friendship I experienced with Yeager. Undying, unchanging, nonjudgmental, and everlasting. No matter who you have in your life that loves you like that, hug them today and express your gratitude for their being in your life.

Thank you, Yeager, for being my best buddy ever. I sure do miss you.
Friendship that never dies

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