A few days ago my precious little dog named Buddy died. He was nearly 17 but nonetheless, receiving the news felt like a knife through the heart. Meanwhile, this is where I was, working my way up K2, honoring my word, fulfilling the ‘mission’. At what cost?

I wasn’t there. I was there on an iPad. While beautiful and thoughtful, I still wasn’t there. Buddy was there, every time I needed him.

I’m a person who does not dwell on the things he cannot control, perhaps that is the philosophical non-attached program/belief I adopted from Buddhist teachings years ago, my relationship with death is quite healthy, but I am human. My pain and grief reflects the depth of the bond.

After 16 years of doing this, being someone who travels so much and makes tremendous sacrifices to do what I do, I pause and ask myself: is it all worth it? In the beginning it is. You’re figuring it out, you’re living the dream, you’re climbing the ladder, you’re building your name, bla bla bla. Then you wake up one day and recognize just how much of ‘real life’ you’re missing out on. You look back and see how much you’ve lost, how the most precious commodity of time evaporates and while all you’re living is heavenly and beautiful, it’s also marred with loss and complication. Loved ones come and go and you find yourself barely able to commit to a plant without needing your sister to save the day. And then your Furry companion dies and you’re not there. It hurts. One must ask the hard questions.

When I broke my back in ‘14 and was confined to a body brace Buddy healed me. Anyone who is attached to an animal knows what it’s like, the loyalty, the love, the unconditional bond and way of making you feel cared for like no other. And yet, this photo is where I was. It’s a tough one to swallow.

His life was beautiful and ours are richer for being a part of his little journey.


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