Fare-thee-well now
Let your life proceed by its own design
Nothing to tell now
Let the words be yours, I'm done with mine.

Last night, I lost my shadow. It was both one of the saddest and most beautiful days of my life so far. After 14 years together, and 16 years of life, she finally told us it was time to rest. We’ve been preparing for this day for probably three years now. Every time we thought she was getting too old, she’d turn back time. Even though she was slower and calmer, she still followed me everywhere. She was the shadow at my side. Last night, when it became obvious, I told my son Knox that we could all sleep together tonight. He said, “Good, because we’re saying goodbye to the greatest person in our family today.” He was right.

This is the saddest our family has been in a long time. But Cassidy was a gift. I am not religious, but if anything was spiritual or divine, it was our relationship with her. Instead of being sad, I am going to tell you all about how incredible she was. And even though dogs can’t read (or speak English, though I believe Cassidy understood me fluently), I’m hoping that in doggy heaven there’s a translator who can share these thoughts with her. We loved her so much, and she deserves all recognition.

We adopted Cassidy on August 15th, 2011. Chelsea was walking around SoHo one morning when she saw an Animal Haven Dog Shelter volunteer walking what looked like a white wolf. She asked the volunteer about her, and the volunteer said that she had just been rescued. Cassidy was a mama dog who had been found by the organization while pregnant. She gave birth to her litter at the shelter. They were called “The Pirate Pups,” and she was their mom, “Treasure.” The puppies were adopted, but the shelter was still trying to find her a home. Chelsea called me, and we decided instantly that we wanted to be the people who gave mom a home.

For context, Chelsea and I met in January of 2011. So Cassidy had been with us since basically day one of our lives together. She was the ultimate dog and the most loyal friend. I never used a leash with Cassidy because she would never leave our side. She was insanely athletic. We would take her on hikes and adventures to the beach, where she would swim in the lake and obsess over tennis balls. Summers in Dewey meant Cassidy would run the beaches at sunrise and sunset, and at night walk with us to the bars to listen to live music and eat fried chicken and crab.

Everyone would always stop us and tell us how beautiful she was. I was so proud of that, as if she were our daughter. Yes, the looks come from us! But really, it was non-stop compliments about her. Everyone was amazed by her demeanor and beauty, and everyone knew she was my best friend. My brother-in-law texted us yesterday after learning the news and said, “She was the sweetest dog and a big part of the family. Always saw her as Jarrod’s loyal sidekick.” Everyone knew that. She was my sidekick. We were inseparable until her last day. I will forever have a gap in my heart where she laid, and I never want that to be filled. It’s only for her.

Cassidy was definitely crazy, though. She couldn’t be contained. Whenever we’d visit somewhere and had to leave the house, we knew she’d get out. Whether that was breaking out of the car at the Trader Joe’s parking lot or greeting us at the elevator when we’d be getting back from a night out in New York City, she ran by her own rules. But that’s what made her special. Cassidy and I had a spiritual deal when we adopted her—that we’d always be together. And she never wanted a situation where that wasn’t the case. I hope everyone has something in their life that loves them like that because it’s the greatest feeling a person can ever have.

Cassidy was there through our lives' biggest moments. Three months after Chelsea and I moved in together, we adopted Cassidy. She lived in the city with us and was the photo on our Save the Date when we got engaged. Once we found out we were having twins and moved out of the city, she rolled with us through the tunnel into Jersey and was there the day Knox and Nash were born. Her responsibility to Chelsea and me was immediately assumed onto the boys as well. She protected them, slept alongside them, and showed them what it was like to be part of the gang. We wanted the boys to feel the love that Cassidy gave us, and they did.

What was crazy is that we had Cassidy for six years before the boys were born. Doing the math, and knowing she was a mom, that would make her eight years old at the time. We fully expected these to be her later years. Little did we know that she would be riding along with us through our sons’ biggest life moments for the next eight years.

We moved to Westfield and built our family here. Cassidy was here for every one of their birthdays. She sat outside with them for hours while they learned how to potty train. She woke up with them every morning and ate breakfast. They’d let her out in the backyard so she could go to the bathroom. They would throw her tennis balls. It’s hard to appreciate this repetition at the time, but now that it’s gone, you realize that just like brushing your teeth and taking a shower, petting and saying good morning to your dog is a constant. We’re confused, but we’re okay, because she made every one of our moments better, and we’re thankful for that.

Her favorite thing was us. She would do anything for us. I’m convinced she lived so long because she felt it was her duty not to give up on us. Cassidy never showed pain. She never cried or whimpered. She showed up for work every day and made sure our days were fulfilled in any way she could contribute. She loved dog things too, of course—loved treats, loved running around with Frank and Chief—but she was human above all.

I never thought I’d have to say goodbye to her. I feel like I owe her so much more. Last night, when we said goodbye, I left the vet and my shadow wasn’t there anymore. I clutched her empty leash and collar—the leash that was the exact one we got the day we adopted her—and I heard the jingle of her dog tag. And I realized that shadows only happen in the light. And that wasn’t just when Cassidy was behind me. She was always behind me. The sound of her collar, or the loose pieces of hair that now sit next to my office chair, are her. The scratches she made on the door when I’d have to leave her alone used to make me mad, and now they give me peace.

So my shadow isn’t really gone—it’s still following me, just a little further away. I won’t be able to say “C’mon, Cassidy” anymore, though I’m sure I will accidentally from time to time. And I really hope I do.

Everyone who knew us knew Cassidy. She was someone we didn’t take for granted, and we realized how special she was every waking day we had with her. We got extremely lucky that Chelsea was walking down Orchard Street that day. We gave her a new life, and I truly believe it was an amazing life. And she gave us more than a dog can ever realize. She defined us and will live with me forever.

I’m really proud she was my dog. I miss you and love you. Thank you for giving me the greatest 14 years I could ever ask for.