09/25/2026
Saying Goodbye to Halo 💔 My Sweetest Goodest Good Boy
This is ripping my heart out to write this.
I don't know how to say goodbye to a dog who wasn't just a dog to me. Halo was woven into my heart and soul.
11 years sounds like a long time when you say it out loud, but I wanted forever.
I truly believe Halo lived at least two years longer than he would have if he hadn't had someone who was willing and able to care for his every need. And I would do every single bit of it all over again.
Not once was he ever a burden to me.
Not when he became incontinent. Not when he needed specialized nursing care. Not when he needed daily medication to keep him comfortable.
It was never a burden or an inconvenience. It was an honor to care for my sweetest most gentle giant boy.
For about a year, he was essentially on hospice care. When he could no longer safely come in and out of the house (up and down the stairs), we gave him his own special area in the barn because he wanted to be outside where he could see me and be with me while I worked.
And that's where he loved to be.
His favorite place.
Right in the middle of everything. Watching me work dogs in the round pen, or conducting lessons.
A staple on our farm.
So many of my clients met Halo. So many of them loved him.
Over the last month, his mobility deteriorated and over the past 1-2 weeks he came to a point that he could no longer walk at all. His care became even more intensive. After we exhausted all medical intervention, I had to accept that it was time to let him go.
His medications are no longer able to keep him comfortable.
And so, out of love, I have to make the most difficult decision of my entire life.
I want to keep him here forever.
But I know I can't.
Because Halo would stay here with me until his very last breath, dragging himself around on one leg if that's what it took, because he loves me that much and wants to be with me.
And that isn't fair to him.
So I have to love him enough to let him go.
Out of all of my dogs, this one is going to be one of the hardest losses I have ever experienced.
Halo never did a single thing wrong in his entire life.
He was always the goodest good boy.
The sweetest, kindest, gentlest soul.
He loved everyone. He loved everything. He was so goofy and silly.
He was so incredibly trustworthy that sometimes he would sleep in the chicken coop (to steal the eggs of course). And he never bothered the chickens. In fact, sometimes the chickens would literally bully him away from his own food, and I would have to stand guard because Halo would just let them.
As Halo became a senior he became mischievous in the sweetest possible way.
For a while, he figured out that his mobility issues could occasionally work to his advantage.
One time, he sneaky hobbled his 130-pound butt over at lightning speed and stole my iced matcha when I wasn’t looking.
Another time, he was laying in the sun in the round pen when I needed to use it for a lesson. He acted completely incapable of getting up, and I was so distraught then that it might be time then. So Gaige and I put him on a stretcher and carried his enormous self into the barn.
We got our things for the client appt and when we turn around, Halo had skedaddled himself right back into the middle of the round pen!!! He was faking it!!
Apparently, he could walk just fine (quickly even!) when there was somewhere he wanted to be.
He was never truly naughty.
Just perfectly, sweetly mischievous. In the most harmless sort of way.
Halo was also one of the most wonderful dogs I have ever had the privilege of using in my work. He was such a kind, calm, gentle presence. He helped build so much confidence in defensive and fearful dogs that I worked with. He was also so completely neutral around other dogs.
And he didn't have a single ounce of aggression in his body.
Not one mean molecule.
Halo was the perfect example of what a Great Dane should be in temperament.
He grew up running alongside the four-wheeler with me every day. He explored the woods with me off leash while I was on horseback for miles and miles. We went to springs together. We went to the ocean and swam together.
We spent countless nights curled up together in bed.
He has been with me through everything.
We moved 4 times together.
Halo even donated blood regularly for the veterinary clinic where I worked. He would sit there like the perfect gentleman, snacking on treats or even falling asleep during the blood draws.
Eventually, we moved to this farm where
Halo got to spend the rest of his life. Free.
Surrounded by so much love. I kissed his sweet face every single day.
Duma's death was a shocking blow to my heart.
Losing Halo feels like something different entirely.
It feels like my soul is being obliterated.
Because I loved this dog so, so much.
He was that special.
My goodest good boy.
My gentle giant.
My farm dog.
My shadow.
My partner through some of the hardest years of my life.
And a piece of my soul.
11 years was never going to be enough.
I wanted forever.
But if loving him means making the decision to end his suffering when I desperately want to keep him here, then this is the final thing I can do for him.
I can carry his pain so that he doesn't have to.
I can let him go peacefully.
And I can be there with him, just like I have been through everything else.
Halo will be cremated through Honor Thy Pet. I chose them because they offer a special engraved necklace pendant with his nose print.
A little piece of the nose that stole my iced matcha.
The nose that I kissed endlessly.
The nose of my goodest good boy.
I love you, Halo.
I always will, forever.
