When I made the decision to adopt a puppy, I wasn't thinking about the inevitable heartbreak. The kind I would experience when he passed away. Most pet owners don't, at least not at first. It was my first pet as an adult and I was a tad emotional, to say the least. When the day came to pick him up from a local breeder who owned a farm, I was almost physically shaking with excitement for the length of the hour drive there.

I had a specific breed in mind for a reason. Golden retrievers are known for their playful and bright personalities, they make great family pets and fall for everyone they meet unconditionally, somehow, they also manage to be both intelligent and goofy. I wanted a companion that could encourage me to be more active, a dog I could take out on outdoorsy trips like hiking or backpacking. Miraculously, the pup I picked out met all my expectations. I had never met a more bubbly or silly dog, he was the definition of a lovable clown and we immediately took to each other.

Along with the lovable qualities golden retrievers possess, there are some accompanying, serious, health concerns I kept in mind as an informed owner. As a breed, they're prone to cancer, skeletal diseases like hip dysplasia, and other issues such as hypothyroidism, epilepsy and skin infections.

Even more concerning was the realization that around sixty percent of golden retrievers pass away from cancer-related illnesses. It was a shocking number that still causes lapses of dread, that I can only relieve by tightly holding onto my confused dog and repeating, "It's going to be okay," a thousand times.

Recently, those momentary lapses of dread have spread to anxiety-filled, lengthy periods of time that are exasperating by my dog turning 6 this year. I tell myself it wouldn't be such a worry if I haven't started to notice little signs that my dog's active-loving lifestyle has started to take a toll on his body.

There was a significant drop in his energy level overall and normal, daily, activities took longer or changed completely. When it was time to take him out, typically in the morning, around midday and at night, he'd have to stretch each time. He slept longer and when exercising, usually hiking or ball fetching, he'd end up panting heavily within a few minutes. He also slept excessively and made strange groaning sounds whenever he woke up and had to start moving again. Slowly, the signs became more visible or evident and I had to recognize them as a genuine testament to his growing age.

So, in the midst of this sudden emotional crisis I'm experiencing, I decided to employ several, straightforward strategies for coping with my stress and anxiety. Munching on lots of junk food, cuddling my dog endlessly, occasionally giving him a treat because he moves at puppy speed for that, monitoring his health at least twice a year through vet visits, providing a beneficial diet, ensuring he gets sufficient exercise and is generally a happy dog by paying attention to his body language.

It occurred to me that while I was fretting over my dog's age, he was laying on his bed, staring up at me, wondering why we were just sitting around. My life was filled with various commitments, a full-time work and school schedule to start, so our time together was limited. I decided then to start making use of our time together, rather than cry over how little we had. I would much rather see my best friend living the fullest life possible rather than sleeping away the day. Which was the plan from the start, living a full, active, life with the best partner I could have asked for.

The concept of loss is a scary one to contemplate, even if it's briefly. It's an undeniable fact that all living things will eventually die. If I remained fixated on that reality then I would be wasting time on something that can't be changed. My dog also wouldn't receive the life he deserves because I'm fussing over it ending. I overcame the anxiety and fear by coming to terms with what I could do, not what I couldn't.