This came in the mail and I thought that since it applies to a lot of people, I'd answer here. If the rest of you want to share your stories and your love and your support, please do in the comments. 

A reader writes:

Our dog Dolby has cancer and we don’t know how long he has left (3 months? 9 months?) do you have any advice to cope? My wife and I are just so upset and have grief. I don’t even know how To process this. I know you went through this with Roswell.

First – I’m sorry this is happening, but also, I’m glad that it’s happening. Unless you live with a grey parrot or a galapagos turtle, any dog or cat you get is probably going to die before you do. And it will be crushing. But it will only hurt as much as the inverse of the love you created together. If it hurts terribly, that’s because you gave that animal that much love. Dogs (and cats) in America die in staggering numbers every day (the ASPCA says 390,000 dogs are euthanized every year in America) – the fact that you’re sad about it means that your dog had what a quarter of a million dogs a year didn’t have – someone who loved him. You are the only people who truly know how powerful and how special that love is, and every bit of hurt you feel right now is because you and Dolby loved that much. Always remember; this is a happy story. This isn't a story about a dog who died, it's a story about three creatures on earth who found one another and lived for a time in exquisite happiness do deep and unique that nobody else can do anything but comprehend the shadow of it.

Another thing you have, and that I do understand, is time. This made all the difference for Roswell and me. This ancient Buzzfeed article I found says that 1,200,000 dogs are killed by cars every year. These are dogs that presumably people loved but ran out into traffic one morning and boom. Finished. Having three months, or nine months to figure this out is a Very Lucky Thing. 

Because….

There are some things you can control, and some things that you can’t control. You can’t really so much control when your dog will die, but you *can* absolutely control how it happens and how special those days in between are.

I can really only speak for myself here, but that’s what you asked for and so I’ll tell you some things that made it all easier for me when I found out that Roswell had three months to live….

First and foremost – realize that this isn’t really about you, it’s about Dolby. Dolby doesn’t know he’s going to die, he only knows if he feels happy or sad, or tired or in pain, and you are in control of all of those. You can make him happy, and you can keep him from feeling pain. Be the best dog parents you can be. Make Dolby the happiest dog on Earth, and when he’s not the happiest dog on Earth anymore, make sure that he’s never uncomfortable before it's over. What more can anyone ask for? We learned about a home-euthanasia service called “Lap of Love” which we called when our cat, Milla, had a stroke and, let me tell you, it was as close to a wonderful experience as it could possibly have been. There was no trip to the vet, there was no unfamiliar place, there was just love and then nothing. They're in the Yellow Pages. Don't be afraid to ask your friends for money to help make this happen.  If you can, don’t leave Dolby alone, not because he might die while you’re gone, but because two years from now you’d empty out your bank account to have one of these lazy afternoons doing nothing with him and also because Dolby probably wants you around. There were times we had to leave Roswell, but we started a writers retreat and let people use our house as long as they sat with her. So grad students or poets would come and spend the afternoon or the weekend in the house, typing away on the Great American Something while Sparky napped on their laps feeling content and loved. Celebrate every day together. Every one. Every minute together is the superbowl touchdown of your lives. Live these last days hard and make them a lifetime of joy. Let him always know that you love him and that you know he loves you.   Try and think of something good you can do because you’re feeling bad. I think a lot of people on Earth wake up and say to themselves “My life is bad, I’m angry. I want to make someone else sad so that in comparison, my life won’t feel so dreadful,” which is a terrible way to be. Do extra things that make others happy because of this. Can you sponsor a puppy? Take Dolby to visit an old neighbor?  This is not a sad thing unless you let it be. I’ll tell you right now, that the last year Roswell and I had together was the best of the 13 years we had, because we appreciated it. I don’t think I’d trade it for five more ordinary years. It absolutely matters that other people acknowledge your experience. Don’t ever scroll past a friend’s post that a dog or cat or rabbit has died without saying something, because as ephemeral and perhaps silly as it may seem, those comments, those sad faces, every person saying “I understand that your are hurting” means something, so make it a part of your life to always offer support to others. Do something special and big. Maybe get a portrait of the three of you painted. Maybe make a youtube channel or tile the bathroom floor to look like Dolby, write a book of poems, make an album, make a comic but do some major undertaking to acknowledge how much his time with you means and (eventually) meant. But really, most importantly: make sure that Dolby feels love and happiness every single day until he feels nothing but a little tired and that the last thing he ever thinks is that he feels warm and he feels loved and that he had the best life ever.

xox