April 11, 2026 update- we lost Obsidian at 4pm today. We had a terrific last day with him and he will live on in our hearts and memories forever.
Original post
The chapter of my life that includes my long-time constant companion, Obsidian, is nearing the end. Late last week, we noticed him slowing down; he wasn’t eating or drinking much, so we began substituting tuna and salmon for kibble just to get calories into him. With all of this in mind, we took him to our local vet on Friday and discovered he had developed internal bleeding. While it wasn’t a lot, even a little is serious, so we followed a recommendation to see a specialist in Bozeman on Saturday morning.
Ultrasound and X-rays there confirmed the doctors’ assumptions: a tumor was growing near his spleen and liver and bleeding into the abdominal cavity. Fortunately, the X-rays showed no masses in his lungs, suggesting that if the tumor is malignant, it hasn’t spread yet.
After discussions with the doctors and a lot of soul-searching, we chose not to do anything heroic. Their best-case scenario was that surgery and chemotherapy might extend his life by nine months – maybe a little more, maybe a little less. Without intervention, we may have only weeks, but he can be made comfortable through quality-of-life support.
He’s been such a good dog that we don’t want to put him through the trauma of surgeries, long recoveries, and the discomfort of chemo, only to have his last year be confusing and painful. Instead, we will do what we can to keep him comfortable and maintain a daily schedule that is as close to normal, if reduced, as possible.
Companion animals are such a wonderful burden; I think they give us so much more than we give them. While all the years of love and enjoyment will eventually overcome the current grief and profound sadness we feel, we are not there yet.
He sleeps a lot more now, and his walks are less strenuous, but his tail is still up. He sniffs, listens, and explores, still leading the way for part of each walk. The nearly eleven years we’ve had with Obsidian have been filled with adventures across the West in all sorts of weather. He’s visited at least eight national parks and walked in ten states, been in nearly countless National and State Wildlife Refuges, explored rivers, streams, ponds, and the Pacific Ocean. He has walked through deserts, forests, scrubland, mountains, and prairies.
Despite being a Labrador, he became a birding dog, not a bird dog; he is willing to watch birds from a safe distance, resisting what must be a powerful urge to retrieve. He was with me every step of the way as I walked 1,200 miles in 2024 researching trails for HelenaOutdoors.com. Early on in that project, he learned to relinquish the trail to bikes and runners. I’ve lost count of how many people have said, “That’s a good dog,” as he steps off and waits following my cue: “Up and off the trail, please.”
He has also helped me immensely since my April 2024 diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis. Movement is critical to keeping my pain and stiffness from becoming overwhelming, and sometimes I think he asked for walks not for himself, but to keep me moving.
When I tally it up, Obsidian has logged about 9,000 miles with us since I started tracking in 2020 – roughly 5,000 miles in parks and 4,000 on the trails. We will miss him terribly when the time comes. In the meantime, every walk is precious. No matter where we go, what we see, or how slowly we move, every step is a gift.
He is a good dog.
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