There’s a certain kind of magic in the love of a dog.

Fifteen years ago, we brought Kona home—long before the chaos of kids, career changes, or the many joys and heartbreaks that life would bring. She was our first baby. She lived through the birth of all three of our children (now 12, 9, and 4), and somehow, she adapted with grace and quiet strength as our world evolved around her.

She wasn’t perfect—but she was perfect for us.

In our house, filled with energy, mismatched socks, and never-ending schedules, she was a calming presence. A soft landing. From the moment she greeted us each morning to her final days, she gave her all. Every single day.

And now… she’s gone. And the silence she left behind was louder than I ever expected.

A Dog Who Grew With Us

Kona hit her prime around 7, right around the time most dogs settle into themselves. It was like she matured with us. She took every adventure we threw at her, whether it was a move over the Golden Gate Bridge, a mountain hike, or a late-night snuggle session after another newborn feeding marathon.

She was there when I worked building my career at my first startup and was beloved by all my teammates as our unofficial marketing mascot. She sat with me through operations, miscarriages, the loss of my beloved grandmother, and some of the most vulnerable moments of my life. She celebrated every high and never wavered through any low.

She had a mischievous streak, too, that is worth mentioning: 

  • A stolen pink cupcake that gave her endless diarrhea? Worth it.
  • A full chocolate advent calendar? Down the hatch—and out the other end.
  • A bowl full of spilled popcorn stolen—oopsie.
  • A poop on a Christmas present to mom? Sorry about that one.

And somehow, despite all her snacky adventures, she outlived her breed’s average lifespan by several years with minimal health issues.

A Dog Who Raised Our Kids, Too

Kona was there for all of it. She let my third wrestle her endlessly, unfazed by the toddler body slams she learned to endure from the first two. She let them climb on her, dress her up, and spill their secrets to her on hard days.

She taught them love.
She taught them patience.
She taught them presence.

Grieving Out Loud 

Losing her has left a giant hole in our hearts and our home. We’ve never known a life without her. I counted. Five thousand three hundred days, in fact, we’ve only known a life with Kona in it. But I’m letting my kids grieve out loud. We talk about her. We cry. We laugh at the memories. We light a candle. We pray.

We remembered her in photos, videos, and appreciated the dozens of drop-offs, notes, and little gifts we’ve received from loved ones to work our way through it. And slowly, we’re learning to live with the loss.

How to Talk to Kids About the Loss of a Pet

Every child grieves differently, and depending on their age and development, their understanding of death can vary dramatically. Here’s what helped us and what experts recommend when helping kids cope with losing a beloved pet:

Ages 2–5: Keep it simple and honest.
Young kids often don’t understand the concept of permanence. Use clear, gentle language. Instead of saying, “Kona went to sleep,” which can be confusing or even scary, say, “Kona’s body stopped working, and she died. We won’t see her anymore, but we can always remember her.”

Offer comfort through routine and affection, and expect that they may ask the same questions again and again as they try to process what happened.

Ages 6–9: Encourage questions and allow emotion.
Children in this age group often begin to understand that death is final, but it may still feel confusing. Let them talk, cry, be angry, or even laugh. Encourage expression through drawing, storytelling, or creating a little memory box with their favorite photo or collar.

We let our kids light a candle and share their favorite Kona stories around the dinner table. It helped them feel heard and reminded them that it’s okay to feel big feelings.

Ages 10+: Let them lead the way.
Older kids may understand death more like adults do, but that doesn’t make it easier. They may want more privacy in their grief or feel pressure to stay “strong.” Make sure they know there’s no right way to mourn.

I told my oldest, “You don’t have to hold it together. Grief is love with nowhere to go.” That opened the door for a much-needed cry and some deep conversation that I’ll always remember.

What She Taught Me

In these quiet moments, I keep coming back to one truth:

What matters most isn’t perfection—it’s presence.

Kona showed up. Every day.
She didn’t worry about the future. She didn’t dwell on the past.
She loved us completely, even in our mess.
She reminded us to greet each morning joyfully and give love freely. That, in itself, was the most profound kind of wisdom to leave with all of us.

For Anyone Else Grieving a Pet

If you’re grieving the loss of a beloved animal, know that you’re not alone. The pain is real because the love is real. What’s helped me:

  • Letting it out. Cry, talk, share. Grief needs air.
  • Honoring the memories. Light a candle, tell a story, and create a little tribute.
  • Reflecting on the joy. They gave us so much more than we can ever give back.

Kona’s memory lives on in our home, in our hearts, and in every moment we choose presence over perfection. She wasn’t just a dog. She was our first family member. And she taught us how to love bigger, live fuller, and keep going—even after goodbye.

For more stories on parenting, love, and finding light in the mess, check out our new episodes on the MomShine podcast—the #1 show for busy moms working their way through the chaos.