My family lost our 6-year-old Golden Retriever, Mackenzie, to heart failure on March 8th, 2018. I was away in West Virginia, without any connection to my family, so I didn't find out for four days. She was diagnosed with pneumonia the Saturday before, the day before I left for Nazareth Farm. In spite of a short-lived improvement, it turned out that the pneumonia was a symptom of heart failure. The vets fought as hard as they could to save her, but Mackenzie lost the fight on Thursday evening. I've lost pets in the past, heck, I lost my fish a month ago, but in the days following her death, I've realized a few things.

1. No matter how long you had, you'll always wish for more.

We had Mackenzie for 6 years. And while those 6 years were full of love, happiness, and laughter, I find myself asking "why couldn't I have had more time" quite frequently. I remember having those thoughts when our previous Golden, Ben, died in 2011. He lived a long, full life, but I still wanted more.

2. I will burst into tears everytime someone asks me how I'm doing.

I try and say that I'm doing okay, or as well as I could be, but the tears always come, and I'm brought back to the shocking reality of grieving yet again.

3. Happy memories can still be happy.

I think back to her a lot. How she would bring anyone who came in the front door a toy, without fail. How she would get so excited when she got a new bone or a toy, and have to show it off to the whole house while doing a wiggly butt dance. How she came and cuddled with me while I was sad.

I get really sad thinking about her, since I'll never see her again, and I won't get to live these memories out anymore. My spiritual director told me yesterday that these memories don't have to become sad ones, they can remain happy, and I can smile at the love and affection and happiness Mackenzie oozed in her lifetime.

4. I knew something was wrong before I knew.

On Thursday, I was sitting in the common room at Nazareth Farm, and I was super anxious. I talked with one of my friends about it, and he asked if something had sparked it, and I couldn't think of anything. When I found out she had passed away right around dinner on Thursday, I was really weirded out because it was like I knew she was gone.

5. Trying to rationalize it doesn't really help.

This is one thing I don't remember doing when we lost Ben or I lost Roger. With Ben, he was sick and he was old, and he'd had a good life. With Roger, I knew it was coming, even though I hoped it would be different.

With Mackenzie, I keep looking for reasons why her heart would give out at 6 years old. I've researched the heck out of SAS and other heart conditions that afflict Goldens. I've looked to see if there is a connection between epilepsy and heart failure. I think I believe if I can rationalize it, it won't hurt as much.

6. I have some good people around me.

I sat in a Campus Minister's office, and she let me cry. I skipped classes, and friends offered me notes without hesitation. I sat with a friend, and he insisted I be kind to myself. I called my dad and asked to go home. And so I went home. My bosses excused me from our meeting so I could take care of myself. People I haven't spoken to in months reached out. Mackenzie is still managing to remind me of how loved I am, even if not through her goofy ways.

7. Stopping, even if you can't really helps.

My friend and I were talking about how even as my emotional well-being is shattered, I still have to go to class and perform. It's just the nature of my major. I skipped my physics class on Monday, emailing my professor about losing her, and we ran into each other today, and she made sure I was okay.

I went home on a Tuesday. Something that even in the worst period of my mental health last year, I never considered doing. And being with my dad and watching Men in Black 3 helped. And yes, I still had work to do, but being with my family helped.

8. Thoughts and prayers don't really make me feel better, but I appreciate them a lot.

Nothing will bring her back, but knowing everyone is thinking about my family during this time and praying for us and for Mackenzie does help. It's nice to feel supported, even if we can't bring her back.

9. Pope Francis said that dogs can go to heaven.

He announced it just before we lost Mackenzie. It's really nice to imagine my dogs that we've lost waiting for me with each other.

10. God works in weird ways.

When my dad brought her home just before Christmas in 2011, we needed a loving pup. I never could've imagined getting Mackenzie. She was perfect, albeit a messy, uncooperative puppy. She kept me going through my sophomore year of high school, which was a rollercoaster of emotions, more bad than good. She became a mother for Lily, our lab, who we got in 2013.

God took her home during one of the best weeks of my life. He took her home during one of the strongest periods of my faith in a long time. He took her home while I was with a dog who encompassed all I remember Ben to have been.

I don't think I'll ever get all the answers to my questions. I don't think I'll ever know why she was taken so young. I know she was loved though. And I know she was happy. She made me happy.