Diesel: The Dog That Started It All
There are dogs who walk beside us through life… and then there are dogs who change the trajectory of it entirely. Diesel was that dog for me. My soul dog. The one who loved me with a depth and devotion that still humbles me. His birthday is December 9, and January 21 is his heavenly birthday — the day he left this earth. Every year around this time, I feel him closer than ever. And today, on his heavenly birthday, it feels right to tell his story again.
I was so deeply flattered by how much Diesel loved me — the way he chose me, the way he watched me, the way he trusted me with his whole heart. That kind of love changes you. Losing him rocked my world in ways I wasn’t prepared for, and even now, the emotion is still right there. When you love a dog like that, it doesn’t just fade with time — it stays with you, woven into who you are.
Diesel was nine years old when he was diagnosed with insulinoma — a rare and aggressive pancreatic cancer. At the time, I knew nothing about it. I didn’t understand how quickly it could progress or how devastating it could be. What I was beginning to understand, though, was that so much of what I had been told about raising dogs no longer sat right with me. I was starting to question nearly everything I thought I knew — and that realization alone was unsettling.
I began to see how deeply conditioned I had been to believe that my dogs needed yearly or “routine” vaccines, ultra-processed food, and harsh chemical preventatives in order to be healthy and protected — just to name a few things. I had trusted the people and systems I believed knew more than I did, without realizing how little room there was for questioning or nuance. Looking back, I can see how those choices created toxic burden in my dogs — not out of neglect, but out of trust. I believed I was doing the right thing, because I didn’t yet know how to question the advice I was given or how to confidently push back against it.
Insulinoma causes dangerous drops in blood sugar, leading to seizures and collapse. I learned quickly that giving Diesel small meals throughout the entire day helped keep his blood sugar steady. Keeping him eating — and interested in eating — was absolutely crucial. So when he stopped wanting his food, I was terrified. And yet somehow, that moment became the turning point for both of us.
I started researching obsessively and came across information about raw goat milk. I learned how nourishing it was, how bioavailable, and how gentle and easy it was on digestion. Out of pure desperation, I went to my local pet food store and bought some. I also picked up freeze-dried raw food, hydrated it with the goat milk, and offered it to him.
And he ate.
Not just once — he kept eating. His energy stabilized. His seizures became manageable. He had quality of life again, even in the shadow of this horrible diagnosis.
To keep him safe while I was at work, I set up cameras so I could watch him throughout the day. I bought a feeder with six small compartments and recorded my voice calling him. Every few hours it would rotate, he’d hear me, and he’d come running to eat — keeping his blood sugar steady while I sat at work, praying I wouldn’t see him collapse on camera. If he had a seizure, I could try to get home to him. It was exhausting. It was terrifying. And I would do it all again without hesitation.
They gave him one month to live.
He gave me eight.
Eight months of learning. Eight months of pouring everything I had into him. Eight months of soaking up every last moment with my best boy — including celebrating his 10th birthday.
The last week was hard. But he told me when it was time. People kept saying I would know what that meant, and I didn’t — until I did. And in that moment, I understood that something inside me had changed forever.
I couldn’t save him from cancer. But I was able to give him the best quality of life possible in the time he had left on this earth — and I would make that choice again, every time.
Everything I do now exists because of Diesel—but it’s carried forward by the dogs who were with me when he passed, and the ones who have come into my life since. Every product I carry. Every consultation I offer. Every conversation with a pet parent who feels overwhelmed, behind, or lost after a diagnosis they never saw coming. All of it began with the love I had for that dog. He didn’t just change how I cared for my dogs—he reshaped how I understand their needs, my responsibility to them, and what it truly means to advocate on their behalf.
This work is how I keep my promise to Diesel — the promise that his journey would matter in real, living ways. Diesel knew Eli. He loved him. Eli looked up to his big brother in that quiet, reverent way younger dogs do, and now Eli is 15 years old. He has lived such a good life, and while I see him aging more quickly before my eyes and we are managing a few things together, I know I would feel completely lost trying to support him if I didn’t have the knowledge I have now. That knowledge began with Diesel.
Vida has benefited from those lessons too. And now Abel, my husband’s dog who has become part of my heart and my home, benefits as well. The dogs in my life today are thriving because of what Diesel set in motion all those years ago.
Learning how to raise my dogs more naturally — with a focus on healthspan, longevity, and quality of life — didn’t just change their lives. It changed mine. I did it all for them first. And somewhere along the way, I learned how to care for myself with more intention, more patience, and more grace. My dogs have made me healthier, happier, and more grounded. When I say I owe them everything, I truly mean it. They have given me purpose, direction, and the courage to keep becoming a better version of myself.
Loving Diesel taught me that real love shows up. It asks questions. It keeps learning. It stays curious and committed, even when the outcome is uncertain. That lesson didn’t end when he left this earth — it became the foundation of how I care for my dogs, how I support others, and how I move through the world now.
This is for you, Diesel.
On your heavenly birthday.
You were the beginning of everything —
and you are still teaching me every day.
This story is shared for education, awareness, and support, based on personal experience and continued learning. It is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or replace veterinary care. Dogs with serious illness, including cancer, should always be supported with the guidance of a qualified veterinarian.