We normally don’t use this space for personal announcements. That isn’t the purpose or mission of Issues & Insights. But, since we answer to no one but ourselves, we can break our own rules.

On Saturday, our family lost our 12-year-old Beagle, Rocky, to cancer. We didn’t even know he had cancer until a week before.

After a recent move, we’d taken Rocky to a new vet for a wellness check and mentioned that his eating habits had recently changed. Instead of his normal voracious appetite – so voracious that we had to buy a dish designed to slow down eating – he would occasionally turn his nose up at the food. We figured he was just getting old and cranky and picky, but the vet suggested blood work and X-rays.

When she saw a mass in his abdomen, she recommended getting an ultrasound at the nearby animal hospital. That was on Tuesday morning, May 5. By that evening, we learned Rocky had “multiple masses in his abdomen” and “a mass on the right side of his heart.”

The vet’s careful attention to detail was a blessing. Knowing that time was short, we took every opportunity to appreciate this wonderful creature, who was still showing no obvious signs of distress. In fact, last Friday evening, the 15th of May, Rocky was doing his usual enthusiastic sniffing around, engaging with other dogs, wagging his tail at passersby who, invariably, ooohed and aaahed over him. We thought we had months to go.

The next morning, Rocky hopped off the bed and went to the front door to go out, as per usual.

And collapsed.

The tumor on his heart had burst, filling his pericardium with blood and fluid, causing his heart to race and his blood pressure to plunge. The hospital drained the fluid, but he was now in obvious distress as the sack refilled. That night, with family members gathered around, we said goodbye.

We lost our first Beagle, Rusty, 12 years ago, also to cancer, but losing Rocky this way was especially painful. Not only was he a delight to us, he brought smiles to the faces of people on the street. They would regularly stop to say how cute he was. They’d ask to pet him. Even if they said nothing, you could see their faces light up when they looked down. We often thought that this was a special and precious gift of Rocky’s – the ability to brighten the day of random strangers.

But his loss is more painful still, because Rocky was the last direct connection we had to a dear love (pictured at the right) who had passed away – also suddenly, and with no warning – six years before. Kimberly specifically wanted a tri-color Beagle. She found the best breeder in the northeast. She arranged everything. Kimberly adored Rocky, and he, in turn, loved her in the way only a dog can love someone. Losing Rocky so suddenly was like losing another part of her. 

We share this not just to mark the sad occasion, but to offer up our grief as a prayer for all those facing the loss of a loved one. We pray that you will take comfort knowing that, as Psalm 34 tells us, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit.”

We offer it as a reminder that there is far more to life than politics and policy, pettiness and division. Take a moment to appreciate what you have around you. Because it could be gone in a flash.

And we will take this opportunity to remind anyone who would experiment on beagles that there is a special place in hell reserved for you.