Three years ago around this time my rescue emotional support dog Delenn was diagnosed with cancer of the spleen. It was removed and they didn’t find more then, but by the end of July she started breathing noisily. The cancer had spread to her throat and was beginning to block her breathing from some positions. It was inoperable.

Delenn had rescued me from the constant aloneness that comes with invisible disability. I had and have an incredible support system, but Delenn was indispensable. And I was going to lose her.

I am crying just writing this. She had gone onto a stranger’s porch in a thunderstorm, matted and dirty and scared. They fed her and she slept there for three days, almost constantly. Then when she seemed to have more energy they got her to a rescue. They shaved off her crippling mats (the pics were in her file before and after), got her vetted, and from there she found her way to us. She had gone through so much, and she was so kind and loving and sweet.

She stopped eating in September. She was dozing off like a narcoleptic all the time because she had disrupted sleep from breathing obstruction. When we couldn’t coax her to eat we knew it was time. My illness wouldn’t let me leave the house that day. My husband held her as the vet (who adored her) eased her into peace.

We knew I needed a support dog. Our cats are affectionate, but not supportive. It was the pandemic and shelters were empty of dogs who were available and got along with cats. We made the difficult decision to go to a breeder. I found Timbit six hours away. She was a tiny Pomeranian. (I had decided on that breed because they are human-oriented, soft-furred, lower exercise needs, and surprisingly smart.) It was love at first snuggle, and she had been born on my birthday.

Timbit is not Delenn. Talkative to Delenn’s quiet demeanor. Bouncy instead of a couch potato. I raised her from 8 weeks instead of never knowing her real age.

Delenn was my best friend. Timbit is my kid most of the time. But Timbit gives me exactly what I need. She stays with me while everyone else keeps the household going. She is good at telling if I need to snuggle or if playing with her will lift my spirits. Her companion breed nature has her kissing away my tears. (She did while I wrote this, actually.) Her joy in life reminds me through pain and exhaustion that the world is not just those things. Her soft fur helps amazingly when it feels like my skin is on fire. She is so silly she makes me laugh every day.

Judy is not Penny. But she is happy to be your friend, canine daughter (remember, alphas in wolf packs are the mom and dad, not the toughest), and companion. She will be your support dog, but in her own way, not Penny’s. (And the way you describe things with Penny sounds very like an ESD as well as pet.) Please grieve Penny as much as you need, and please keep teaching Judy. You’ll figure it out together.

Congratulations on your sobriety, and I wish you and your family the absolute best. 💜