Lyla was our world. She was everything to us. Our bundle of joy, our peace, our safe space, our comfort, our North Star, our guiding light, she was absolutely everything to us. She was the light that lit up hope in dark times, she was the certainty in seriously uncertain times, the one constant in the ever-transient flux of millennial life. Life was good, peaceful, happy, safe, comfortable, adequate & fulfilling. It really was. It was all because of her.
Then it all changed in the span of a couple of hours that fateful day. With no path to go back to the life we had.
Now, we are left with a trove of questions, no answers, an overwhelming amount of regret & guilt but in that flickers a small measure of hope.
Lyla was generally fine through the 5th of May. Or so we thought. And therein lies the guilt. How did we not see the signs? Did we deliberately miss them or brush them off thinking this couldn't be something serious given that she was generally eating and drinking? Did we not pay more attention because we followed the vet as they were treating her? On the 6th of May, she collapsed in my arms, twice. We rushed her to the vet, me carrying her again in my arms. That was the last time she saw home. She never came back.
The suspected cause is Hemangiosarcoma. And therein lies the regret. Could we have done more? Were there signs she was showing us before from years gone by that we hadn't caught? Should we have been more proactive in screening her and more generally, with her health? If we'd get a do-over, what would we do differently? Can our story help someone, anyone, out there be more vigilant and proactive with the health of their fur babies?
And therein lies the small measure of hope.
Our story didn't end the way we thought it would and it definitely ended far sooner than we had envisioned. We want to use the lessons that we are now learning to raise awareness about this silent Canine Killer called Hemangiosarcoma and help find a cure. This endeavor, wherever it takes us, may ultimately not end up leading to anything fruitful which is a possibility we'll have to live with. But, not doing anything at all with this understanding & awareness is not a truth we are willing to accept. To think that Lyla's death was in vain is an unbearable thought.
Lyla may be gone, and as far as other people are concerned, for the rest of time, all that remains of her is her name. We'll make sure it's used for good, to make a difference in others' lives, however small or big.
To us, she isn't gone, well, not really. She lives in our hearts, souls and our dreams. Her memories are now our greatest treasure, and for us, she will only ever be truly gone when there are none here who remember her. Until that time comes, we are going to fight this silent canine killer with everything we've got.
So, that is why this website exists. This endeavor exists.
This is for fighting Hemangiosarcoma.
This is for all Dog Parents who have ever loved & lost their fur baby.
This is for all Dog Parents who are lovingly raising their fur baby but unbeknownst to them, this Cancer might be quietly wreaking havoc.
This is for all the Dog parents & dog family members out there who are feeling crushed by the debilitating weight of grief to let them know that their feelings are valid and that they aren't alone.
This is for all Dogs everywhere, those enormous yet wonderfully little bundles of love, who make everything better.
This is for all Dogs everywhere that make the journey of life worth savoring.
This is for my wife, a meager and sadly futile attempt from me at trying to help her find some measure of peace because I simply don't have any means to rid her of the pain she's feeling right now.
Mostly and greatestly, this is for Lyla, our baby girl, our princess, our soulmate. We know she'd like this attempt, she really would, if it meant bringing some measure of peace and comfort to others, especially if she knew her Dad wasn't petting other doggos. She'd approve, with that mischievous twinkle in her eye, that gentle tail wag, that empathetic paw print, that subtle head tilt and that reassuringly soft, kind exhale that was so exquisitely hers.
Lyla, sweetie, you are still everything to us, our whole world. You'll always be. How could it ever be any other way? You've left us with an immeasurable amount of love & gratitude to last us for our lifetime. It's now time to share it with others. And can I pet other doggos from now if it's all right with you? ;-)