🐕 More Good Than Bad (Deefer Goodbye)

Hi there 😄 

This is my friends & family newsletter. You probably signed up after reading one of my articles, a LinkedIn post, or after we met. You'll get a new letter 1-2x per month.

Deefer passed away on January 19th, 2026. This is my goodbye letter.

I write and publish birthday letters for the kids. Yes, this includes Deefer Dog. You can read Deefer’s 10th birthday letter here. And here are Oliver’s, Annabel’s, Theodore’s, and Madeline’s recent letters.

Eight months ago, we asked the vet when we'd know it was time. She didn't hesitate:

I wanted specifics, like a date, confidence levels, and standard deviations. But that was all we got.

So I did what any reasonable person would do. I fed ChatGPT his entire medical history.

✅ Stage 4 heart murmur

✅ A mass on his adrenal gland invading his vena cava

✅ Seven different pills every day

I logged it all. If the vet couldn't give me a formula, I'd build one myself.

For eight months, it worked. We got more good days than bad.

—-

Friday. Amy ran upstairs to get ready. I was trying to goad my children to play me in Mario Kart when Deefer threw up three times. Then he started throwing up his water, too. And he kept throwing it up.

Saturday morning, we went urgent care. We got blood work done, they gave us fluids and enough anti-nausea medicine to feed a pony. They suggested an ultrasound, but MLK weekend made scheduling difficult. I said I'd bring him home and monitor him there, where he'd be comfortable.

I had ChatGPT. I had a plan.

I prepared a triage station in the kitchen, where one by one, I lined up blue pill bottles single file, like toy soldiers. I boild chicken and had two kinds of broth at the ready.

By noon Sunday, he was holding water, but he wouldn't eat. That's okay, I thought. I’ll hit him with that anti-nausea & pain med cocktail. Equal parts abapentin, cerenia, ondansetron, shaken not stirred.

He was drooling constantly. He'd never been a drooler.

—-

That night he was barely able to rise to his feet. I picked him up, and put him on my lap. We watched an episode of The Last of Us, the one where Bill asks his husband to euthanize him.

Fucking HBO.

Deefer's breathing was shallow, raspy. Then it settled. I picked him back up and brought him to the kitchen. He took some water. I can still turn this around, I thought.

He had drooled straight through my sweat pants, through my boxers. It was clammy and cold.

—-

Monday morning, I came downstairs to our triage station. He was lying in the same spot. I checked the floor and his bed for throw-up or piss. Nothing. Good sign. I gave him a rub. Checked his water bowl—he hadn't touched it.

I went to grab the bowl and slipped on a puddle of urine, camouflaged by our beige tiles.

Then I picked him up and realized he was soaked in his own piss. I brought him upstairs to the tub. Washed him with the kids' body wash, then back down to triage. I have him more meds. I offered water, then food.

He kept the meds down. A sip of water. Still refused the food.

I called another emergency vet in New Jersey and scheduled an ultrasound.

—-

"If you are independently wealthy, we could certainly try," the vet said. "But even if we resolve all of this, there's still the underlying adrenal gland tumor. His prognosis is not good."

She paused.

She left and I laid him on the couch. I called Amy.

It was only then I realized: I didn’t even give her time with Deefer this morning. I had rushed outside to dig out my car and break it out of its ice prison before hurtling in the direction of New Jersey. I wish I had slowed down.

We FaceTimed so she could say goodbye. Then I called my mom, Amy’s mom, and my sister. Everyone got their goodbye.

—-

Amy reminded me to take photos and video. So I did.

I pulled his brush from my bag—somehow I remembered it in the morning scramble. I brushed his head, his ears, his belly. The hair came out clumpy from his ears, like loose threads pilled from a sweater.

I rubbed his paws, his back, felt all the cysts and bumps, and buried my face in his fur. Even old, his fur still smelled like puppy. But he felt cooler to the touch. Even his breath smelled cold.

I picked him up, and together we walked to the intercom.

I told them we were ready.

The vet came in with four vials. Milky white first. Then a clear one. Then a bright purple-pink one you could mistake for Calpol. Then one more clear one.

She warned me his eyes might not close. They didn’t. They stared blankly at the wall as his heart slowed, and the rise and fall of his chest stopped. She put the stethoscope to him, and she listened for the quiet. We listened together.

Deefer gave one last gasp, his final cold breath escaping his lips.

"He's gone," she said.

And so he was. My sweet boy.

—-

I stayed in the room. Went through the routine one more time, tried to remember how he liked his rubs. His back, his paws, his head. I took one last smell.

Then I buzzed, and a tech came in. He said he was sorry. He took Deefer.

I gathered my things, went to the front desk, paid my bill. It was $1,986.45. We got a $65.40 discount. I didn't ask why.

I sat in my car and cried.

When I got home, the kids asked about Deefer.

"Is Deefer dead?"

"Is he not coming home?"

They sat with me for a while.

Then Oliver asked: "Do you want to play Monopoly with me?"

Annabel asked: "Can we get a cat now?"

Life goes on.

—-

That night Amy and I went through photos. We went all the back, 4,084 days with our boy.

"I wish we could have given him a great meal," she said. "A burger. A steak."

I nodded.

Most times, you don't know when to cash in that last good day. You don't know it's the last one until it's here. It’s probably better that way. It’s certainly simpler, because while I think living life with a carpe diem attitude sounds good, it’s pretty much a mathematical impossibility. But if the job is giving the people you love more good days than bad?

I think we can all do that.

⭐ Recommendations:

🔌 What else I’m working on

• 🌅 I’m launching a local Philly newsletter! This will be hyper-local and focused on the Riverwards e.g. Fishtown, Northern Liberties, Kensington, Port Richmond. If you’re local (or want to follow along) you can subscribe here.

📺 Watching

• 🧟 The Last Of Us. I know I’m super late on this. This was very good, but for some reason I’m not compelled to watch S2. If I should, LMK.

• 🏂 ToughHQ. My friends Scott and Angela started a YouTube channel/brand about raising outdoor/sporty kids. If you want to teach your kids how to snowboard (and more!), check it out here.

📖 Reading

• 📕 How to Read a Book by Monica Wood. My friend Natalie’s mom has been recommending books to me. I enjoyed this one, 3.5/5.

• 🚘 Welcome to The Family: The Explosive Story Behind Fast & Furious by Barry Hertz— Yes, someone wrote a book about the F&F franchise. Yes, I bought it. So far it’s great. If you, too, live your life a quarter mile at a time, you’ll dig it.

⚒️ Doing

• Monopoly App. I was highly skeptical at first, but we love playing this game. It’s fast, and we can actually complete whole Monopoly games in 45 minutes. Oliver in particular loves it.

Ending Note

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