Goodbye, Nala: Grieving the Loss of a Pet

I come to you all with an incredibly heavy heart today. Yesterday, we had to say goodbye to Nala, our 12.5-year-old golden retriever. I’d been dreading this day for what feels like forever. Golden retrievers usually live about 10-12 years, and as she got older, I couldn’t help but worry about when her time would come. She’s been with me through so much of my life, and like a lot of people my age, my pets aren’t just animals—they’re family. Nala wasn’t just my dog; she was my constant, my shadow, and my best friend.

I planned so much of my life around her. I hated leaving her for too long, and I tried to make sure she always had everything she could ever want. In her older years she no longer slept in bed or on the couches, but she still acted like she owned the place—because, let’s be honest, she kind of did. The house had rug paths because the floors were lava and she couldn't walk on them bare, we had water bowls in every room becuase she couldn't be bothered to go all the way to the kitchen when she was thirsty. She even got to go potty in the front yard all by herself without dealing with the puppies or the deck stairs. The house feels so empty now without her, and it’s hard to imagine getting used to this new normal. All last night I was waiting to hear her yelling at me to let her in, or move her water bowl, or let her lay by us. It was so silent.

For all the pet parents out there, you know exactly what I mean when I say this is the worst part. Having to make the decision to let them go is absolutely gut-wrenching. I’ve always hoped my pets would pass peacefully in their sleep, sparing me from having to make that impossible call. But life isn’t always that kind, and sometimes we’re left with no choice but to face it head-on. It’s this constant back-and-forth of “what-ifs” that can feel so overwhelming. What if she could’ve had a few more happy weeks? What if there was an option to treat without making them miserable? But then there’s the other side: What if she’s in so much pain and we’re keeping her here for us, not for her? It’s a heartbreaking push-and-pull between wanting more time and wanting to do what’s best for them.

The thing is, even when you know it’s the right decision, it doesn’t make it any easier. It feels like your heart is being ripped in two. Nala’s last day was as perfect as it could be. She spent it surrounded by love, playing with the neighborhood kids who adored her, devouring chicken nuggets and fries, and soaking up all the cuddles she could get. She was happy. She was loved. And even though it hurts more than I can put into words, I’m grateful that was her last day.

Losing a pet is a kind of grief that’s hard to explain to people who’ve never been through it. They’re not just animals; they’re part of your everyday life. They’re the first ones to greet you when you walk through the door, the ones who keep you company during quiet nights, and the ones who somehow always know when you need a little extra love. When they’re gone, it’s not just their absence you feel—it’s the absence of all those little moments, the routines, the unconditional love they gave so freely.

There’s a quote I’ve seen before that hits so hard right now: “To us, they are part of our world. To them, we are their whole world.” And another one that gets me every time: “Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really.” It’s so true. We get them for such a short time, but they give us everything they have. And when they’re gone, they take a piece of our hearts with them. They are such a pure example of unconditional love and support.

Even feeling so much heartbreak, I wouldn’t trade a single moment I had with Nala. She made my life better in every way imaginable. She taught me about loyalty, unconditional love, and living in the moment. She lived in 3 different states, moved at least 8-10 times, was the best big sister/mom to all of her cats, bunnies dogs and was always there for me. If you’ve ever lost a pet, you know this pain all too well. It’s okay to feel heartbroken, to cry over the quiet moments, and to miss them fiercely. Grieving them doesn’t mean you’re being dramatic—it means they mattered, and that their love left an imprint on your soul.

Goodbye, sweet Nala. Thank you for being my partner, my comfort, and my joy. You’ll always be a part of me, and I’ll carry your love with me forever. I know you’re up there playing with grandma & grandpa, Simba, Ponyboy, Sodapop, Cherry and Sirius and all of your cousins that left before you. I miss you so much, my baby.