It’s so hard to believe that Hawk won’t be with us anymore at this time tomorrow.

He has only been sick for two weeks; it’s all happening so quickly. He went from not eating, to a bloated belly, to shaking and labored breathing. The vet told us yesterday that he has an aggressive cancer in his intestine and there is nothing they can do. The vet is coming to our house tomorrow evening to put him to sleep.

Hawk has given us so much peace around making this decision. We have tried to give him a special last few days, but he can’t even enjoy a walk into the grass. His head is down, telling us he is done. It doesn’t make it any easier, but there is peace is being sure that it is time. We relaxed on the bed together for a lot of the day.

It all seems too soon. Hawk is only 10 years old. He’s a small breed, hearty rat terrier – he was supposed to live another five to 10 years. I thought maybe I would even have him when I turned 40. (That seemed like a long way away when I got Hawk as a 9 week old puppy back when I was 23.) I had just graduated from college, so it seemed fitting to name my first pet after the mascot of my recent alma mater, The University of Iowa. I picked Hawk out of a litter of nine puppies on a farm near Allison, Iowa. He was so small that he could curl up in the palm of my hand.

I couldn’t have imagined all that Hawk and I would do together. He was a constant friend during some turbulent years of change. He lived with me in seven different apartments/townhouses/homes across three states. He always adapted quickly. He has always insisted on two things his whole life that stem from that first apartment that we shared, just the two of us. First, Hawk has to sleep in the bed. I was sure I didn’t want a dog in the bed, so I tried to keep him in a box by the bed that first night. His pitiful crying wore me down and I brought him up to cuddle with me, and that was that. Second is that he always has to bark when someone is at the door. He rarely barks any other time. That first apartment was in a sketchy neighborhood and I lived alone. I encouraged my little puppy to bark when someone came near my door because it made me feel protected. Even though we don’t live in the hood anymore, he still protects me and our house.

I’m so glad Rafa has been able to share more than half of Hawk’s life. When I moved to Minneapolis and met Rafael nearly six years ago, Hawk was one of the things that brought us together. I had to travel for work occasionally. Rafa knew I had a dog and that I didn’t really  know anyone else here, so he offered to watch Hawk for me when I had to go away. Once I determined he was trustworthy, I agreed. He would send me pictures of Hawk cuddling with him while I was away. I guess Hawk was smarter than me and fell in love with Rafa first. Rafa has taken so much good care of Hawk since we all moved in together.

Giana has been sweetly trying to feed him treats and trying to get him to play with his bone. She insisted on sitting up on the vet’s examination table with him as they were delivering the prognosis. She has been calling out for him (“Awkie!”) when he doesn’t run into her room when I go to get her out of bed after nap time. I’m not looking forward to telling her that “Hawkie went bye bye,” but I’m also glad that I don’t have to explain any more to her just yet.

He will be missed. He was a great couch companion for Gilda, especially when Rafa and I were out of town. My mom called him her “grandpuppy” and made many sacrifices over the years to help me with him, such as driving for hours to pick him up. He has many friends from many stages of our life. So many happy memories.

Hawk was a loyal friend and a good dog. I am thankful I got to spend a decade with him. I will never forget him. Please say a prayer for us as we all say goodbye.