I've had this ask in my inbox for over a month, and was weighing the best time to respond. My plan had been to write something thoughtful on the nature of grief after some time had passed so the topic wouldn't be too intense for the poster in question. Now, I hope I have not waited too long, and that the anonymous asker will see this reply in the days that remain. In this period of intense emotion for the site, I feel as though I can risk posting this without a content warning, in the hopes it improves the chance of that kind person seeing that their ask was answered.

Within a few months of when I started posting daily pictures of Barley at @barleydog, I became intensely aware that what I was building was, in a sense, a biography that would meaningfully outlast her. Dogs, after all, simply don't live all that long, relative to the humans scale of experience, and making a daily practice of documenting Barley as she is soon became a long and growing letter that I have been writing to my future self. I have tried, in writing about her (and the thoughts and experiences I have had thanks to time spent with her) to capture who she was in a way that both conveys her to those who will never meet her, and to those of us in the future who can no longer do so. I worry for her, and about her, in ways I know she cannot do for herself, and I do what I can (within the constraints of what daily living allows) to ensure she enjoys the time she has left.

So it was deeply touching, disarmingly so, to learn that my musings had helped someone who is going through what I have known, deep down, I will go through myself one day, and sooner than I think. This vulnerable ask affirms (as have the many kind comments that others of you have made over a year+ of posting) the value of what I can't help but feel sometimes is the silly self-indulgence of pushing my pet into the timelines of others.

With this final Era of Posting coming to an end for cohost, I want to say so much. I am both grieving, as well as dreading that different kind of grief that will come after. For now, the lesson I take from this moment, from Barley's ability to be a salve, by her presence and through my documentation, is that we cannot know the good we do for those around us by being sincere and thoughtful and present when they need us. Share what you treasure with the world, love what you love and who you love, in good faith and with a generosity of spirit, and you will lighten life's burden for hundreds of good, dear people that you will never meet.

For my part, I am hard at work rebuilding the scaffolding of Barley's biographical monument elsewhere. If following her adventures and my idle musings has been something you look forward to checking in on every day, or maybe just once in a while, check back in with @barleydog in the coming days. I'll post a link you can bookmark and an RSS feed you can subscribe to very soon.

And please, give each of your pets a kiss on the head (literal or figurative, as appropriate) on behalf of Barley and me as well.