A Life Lesson on a Dog Walk

At the end of 2008, the world as I knew felt like it was crumbling. The economy was spiraling downward, and with it, so was my family’s livelihood. My wife and I had built a business from the ground up, something we poured everything into, and yet, here we were, just days from losing it all. Receivership was looming like a dark cloud, threatening to swallow everything we had worked so hard for.

One evening I was walking my dog through a fairly heavy snow storm. I was carrying the weight of a future I couldn’t predict and barely even wanted to think about. It was one of those walks where you’re not so much walking as you are wandering, your thoughts just spilling over with worry, and I was lost in them. It was hard to breathe.

Halfway through the walk, I ran into my neighbor who was walking his dog. We had often exchanged small talk and hellos, a nod here or there, but this time he stopped and asked how I was doing. And I guess in that moment, I needed to let it all out. So I did—I spilled my frustrations, my fears, the confusion of not knowing what was next. I went on about the business, the debt, my families' future, the employees who were now not going to have jobs, and the feeling of being at the edge with no good choices left. I had so much anxiety about what I was going to do, how I was going to make it through this. When I finally paused, I looked at him and asked, “So, how are you doing?”

In a calm, almost factual tone, he told me, “I’m dying. I’ve got about three months. I'm scared."

I was stunned. My mind just stopped; I almost thought he was joking, but there was no sign of humor in his eyes. The weight of what he said was so real, so heavy, that I could barely think of what to say. We just stood there, snow coming down around us, dogs quietly sniffing the ground, both of us now silent. There was nothing else to say, and I guess, as men often do, we understood each other without needing any more words. After a while, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

True to his word, he was gone three months later.

That moment has stayed with me all these years, reminding me that sometimes, life hands us these truths that cut right through everything we thought mattered. I was facing a lot of loss and uncertainty, but here was a man facing his mortality, knowing the clock was ticking down to his last days, yet carrying on without bitterness or anger. It was a gift, a lesson to help me face what was coming my way. Yes, I went through a hell of a grinder in life after that—loss, rebuilding, and finding new ways forward. But I’m still here and very grateful.