More Than a Coaster

Porter is twelve years old. Last month, we learned he has a large, inoperable tumor on his liver. The veterinarian was gentle but clear: we likely do not have many more days with him.

We rescued Porter when he was three months old, but his story began before he was born. His mother’s “person” moved away and decided not to take her. She was left behind in a house — pregnant and alone. Fortunately, kind people stepped in to ensure she had a safe place to deliver her puppies.

A few months later, we brought home the best boy in the world.

For more than twelve years, Porter has been steady and loyal and uncomplicated in the way only truly good dogs can be. He has filled our home with the sound of paws on the floor and the quiet comfort of always being there. He has brought more joy and laughter into our lives than we even thought possible.

And now, we are counting days.

That reality changes how you see things. It changes how you hold moments. That is why I am bringing Porter to Painting with Paws for a Cause.

Not because I need another coaster. Not because I want a novelty. But because soon, I won't be able to take him to a silly and fun event like this. One day, the house will be quieter. One day, I will look for his sweet face and not find it.

A small imprint of his paw, pressed into paint, feels like something tangible in the face of something impossible to hold.

We know at the beginning, that loving a pet means grief is part of the promise. It always comes too soon. What we don't often consider is what happens when the roles are reversed — when a pet loses their person.

Waffles did not understand why his person never came home. Genesis did not understand why the world she knew disappeared overnight. Tipsy did not understand why everything suddenly felt unfamiliar and uncertain.

They did not lose their sweetness. They lost their anchor. They are the reason AnimalCity exists.

Events like Painting with Paws for a Cause may look lighthearted from the outside — and they are joyful. Tails will wag. People will laugh. Paint will be messy. But underneath that joy is something quieter and more meaningful: a recognition that our time with them is finite, and that the bonds we form will last long after they are no longer with us.

We gather to celebrate the dogs we have now. We gather to honor the ones we have lost. And we gather to support the ones still waiting for someone to show up.

Because one day, every paw print becomes a memory.

Until then, we hold them close.

If you are able to join us this Saturday 2/28/26, we would be honored to see you there. And if your pet is beside you right now, pause for a moment. Give them an extra little bit of love.

It is never enough time. But it is everything.

Save your spot here: Painting with Paws for a Cause