10/23/2015 – 10/28/2025

I will always be grateful for your emotional support

Owning this dog was one of the most profound experiences of my life, but it started as nothing more than a crazy idea. When the idea to buy a puppy was introduced to me by my then-fiancé, it was a half-joke. The timing was awful. I’d recently finished school and moved in with my parents a few months before – buying a brand new puppy, bringing it into my parents house, and expecting them to take care of it for me while we went to work the whole day? Ridiculous.

If you spend enough time thinking about how to turn a ridiculous idea into reality though, it eventually stops sounding ridiculous, and a few weeks later, we were puppy shopping for a Golden Retriever.

The scene in the breeder’s living room was unreal. This woman’s home had been taken over by dogs. Depending on how you feel about dogs, it was either an adorable fantasy or a filthy nightmare. Pungent smells that didn’t belong inside of a person’s home filled the air. In one corner, a nebulous pile of an indeterminate number of puppies was snoozing. In the middle of the room, three other puppies were having a clumsy wrestling match, yapping and tumbling over one another gleefully. Sold.

A few weeks later we were back to pick out our pup. At this time, most of the 13 puppies had been claimed already. There were three remaining, all females. The charm of a chubby Puppy 1 dissipated quickly when I noticed a clump of poop stuck to, and dangling from, the hair on her bum. It grossly bounced around as she trotted through the front-yard. Puppy 2 was too tired to meet people after a vet visit and was napping in her crate. And Puppy 3 was a little ball of energy who was smitten with us and impatiently followed me with every step. Despite the “love at first sight” feelings Puppy 3 gave me, she did not ultimately end up becoming our Butters. Instead that would be Puppy 2’s destiny.

Our breeder, had extensive experience breeding calm, gentle dogs. Many of her past dogs grew up to become emotional support animals, so we trusted her recommendation when she advised that we take Puppy 2 instead, “Since you have never raised a puppy before, I would highly recommend this one. You didn’t get to meet her but trust me, she is the perfect dog for first-time puppy owners. She is incredibly calm and mild-mannered and very obedient for a young pup.”

On December 21st, 2015, we took home Puppy 2 – a fluffy, golden 8-pound ball of fur and named her Butters.

Over the past ten years we lovingly joked that we’d been scammed by this breeder, but her false promises of peace and obedience brought us a slew of cherished memories.

On one morning walk, I remember an incident where we were walking behind an elderly man who was walking with his young granddaughter towards her school bus-stop. In one hand, he held a sandwich. In an effort to pass them and give them their own space, I guided Butters off the sidewalk and onto the street to walk around them. After taking a bite from his sandwich the grandfather swung his hand a little too close to Butters, and the dog smoothly snatched it from the him, swallowing it in one motion. It was a seamless thievery – the man could not comprehend where the sandwich had gone; he turned around bewildered, looking at his empty hand wondering how a sandwich could have vanished into thin air. Butters proudly grinned at me as I glared back at her disappointed.

Ironically, Butters ended up playing the precise role we joked she was unfit for – for me, she was my rock. I could always count on her to be by my side. Butters was with me during my truly darkest moments. She was beside me when my mind was at its worst.

On those days where life became a true living hell, I wouldn’t feel like speaking, being seen, or being anywhere near another human being. The only place I wanted to be was under a heavy blanket to forget that the world ever existed. But in those times, I didn’t want to be alone either.

Butters was the perfect companion – she’d be right by my side while I cried or screamed into my pillow. The warmth of her body resting against my leg and her long, deep breathing kept me grounded enough to believe my struggles could pass. The worse I was struggling, the closer she would come to me. Through her eyes, her love felt as palpable as the embrace from a loved one.

It would be unfair to myself to make any assumptions that I couldn’t have recovered from mental illness without Butters, but it would have been a hell of a lot harder, and for that, I will be forever grateful.

Monday morning, I received a text from my mom:

Butters had been staying with my parents while I was out of town over the weekend, and my plane wasn’t scheduled to land back in Seattle for another 12 hours. They said she seemed fine the day before. Four days prior when I drove Butters to their home, she was her normal annoying self in the car; unable to sit still in the seat, falling everywhere, trying to enjoy the car ride from my lap.

They took her to the emergency vet and by the end of the day we had her scheduled to be euthanized due to the severity of her condition. That day, Butters had 400mL of fluid removed from her chest cavity – we discovered she had undiagnosed cancer and it was advanced enough that it had already metastasized into her lungs. It was clear she was in pain now.

Two days ago, Butters was scheduled to be put to sleep in the evening, but in the morning I received a call that she was having trouble standing under her own power and in clear discomfort – it couldn’t wait til tonight, it was time right now.

When I arrived, I carried Butters from the car towards the door of the animal hospital and before we reached the front door she left me one more fond memory – unloading a full bladder onto my favorite pair of shoes. The look on her face was apologetic but I did not care, “It’s okay girl, I love you Butters, you’ve been a good doggy. You’ll always be my good girl,” I whispered to her as I held her more tightly.

Butters loved going to the vet and her final visit was no exception, as I put her down she was temporarily reinvigorated. She started walking confidently on her own to make sure she was able to say hello to as many people as possible.

Twenty minutes, several big hugs, and countless tears later, the gut-wrenching pain of saying goodbye to my friend and watching her go arrived.

The narrative surrounding Butters throughout her life was often that she was too hyper, a trouble-maker, and a bad listener. It’s why the thought that she came from a breeder with an emotional support animal background was comical, but the thing is she was an incredible support animal. She instinctually knew when someone was struggling, and she truly loved people and wanted to take care of people.

A beautiful truth about dogs is that they accept everyone; they do not judge, they love humans beings equally. And they wish to be loved back – Butters could spend hours “shaking paws” with anyone who had enough time and patience to indulge her. Right paw. Then left paw. Then right again a few more shakes. Then left. Right. Aaaand left one more time.

One of her favorite people to do this with was my girlfriend. She was initially tremendously fearful of dogs. The first time she visited my apartment she was unable to tolerate being in the same room as Butters. Last night, teary-eyed, my girlfriend shared with me what Butters meant to her,

“Before I met Butters, I could not understand how people could consider an animal so important that they could treat it like family. Butters showed me. She taught me that dogs can love us just like people can love each other. I loved her and I will miss her.”

I loved you too sweet little Butt-Butt, and I will never forget you, RIP.