Today, May 1, would’ve been my Hunter’s 17th birthday.
Seventeen. For a Siberian retriever—that beautiful, disheveled mashup of Labrador and Husky—this number feels almost mythical. My husband and I got him at 11 weeks old, a fluffy, big-headed tornado with thoughts he hadn’t quite figured out how to express yet. We said goodbye to him on September 17, 2025, 16 years and four months later, and I’ve spent every day since carrying what he left behind. Not grief, exactly…more like a graduate-level education I didn’t ask for but couldn’t live without.
Hunter was my heart dog, the kind of dog that makes you believe he’s not entirely a dog at all, just a very furry, very opinionated person who happened to arrive on four legs. He understood everything I told him. He got me in a way that’s hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t experienced it. He was the inspiration behind Bark & Gold Photography, and truthfully, a lot of who I am as a person.
So today, in honor of the birthday we don’t get to celebrate in person, here are 17 things he taught me.
I want to be clear about something before we get into this: seventeen lessons is a laughably small container for everything Hunter was and everything he gave me. This list is the best I can do in words, which, when it comes to him, has never quite felt like enough. But here’s what I know for certain.
1. Be selective about who gets access to you
Hunter had an inner circle, and if you weren’t on the list, he had zero problem letting you know. Strangers? No thank you. Someone approaching my car while he was in it? Absolutely not. He didn’t waste energy trying to win over people who hadn’t earned it. His loyalty was real precisely because it wasn’t handed out freely.
2. Find the People who will cook you a steak and never let them go
My dad was Hunter’s favorite person, not because he was the loudest or the funniest or the most exciting, but because he cooked him eggs, made him homemade steaks, walked him, and basically let him run the entire show. Hunter recognized someone who was genuinely, unconditionally in his corner and he loved him fiercely for it. Find that person. Keep them close.
3. It’s never too late to get comfortable
Hunter ignored his multiple dog beds for approximately a decade. Ten years of perfectly good orthopedic cushioning, completely disregarded in favor of the bed or the majority of our sectional. And then one day, something clicked, and you couldn’t pry him off those beds with a crowbar. It took him ten years to come around, so don’t write something off just because you’re not ready for it yet.
4. Have opinions, and share them (loudly… with Grandma if necessary)
Hunter was not a quiet sufferer. If he wasn’t getting his way, he had something to say about it. And his preferred audience? My mom, on the phone, via full Husky monologue. He would “Husky talk” her to file his complaints about me while I stood there watching him tell on me in real time. The lesson here is simple: speak up. Make sure the people who love you know what you need.
5. Know your worth and protect your space
He wasn’t aggressive. He wasn’t mean. He was just clear. His boundaries weren’t up for negotiation, and he didn’t apologize for them. There’s something genuinely admirable about a creature that knows exactly where its edges are and holds them without drama.
6. Love hard—but keep the right to the whole sectional
Hunter started as a Velcro dog. He needed to be touching you at all times, preferably diagonally across a queen-sized bed with no regard for your comfort. As he got older, he discovered something revolutionary called personal space. He still loved deeply. He also valued his spot on the couch. Love doesn’t have to mean losing yourself in it.
7. Routine is a love language
Up by 4 or 5 a.m. Outside, then back in to crash while I had my tea. Hours outside in the yard. Frisbee. Walks. Toy basket dump every single evening with a full inventory inspection before final selection. In bed by 8 p.m. Every day. Hunter’s routine wasn’t rigid; it was devotion. He showed up the same way every day, and there was profound comfort in that consistency.
8. Snow makes everything better
Rain, heat, cold: Hunter was outside for all of it. But snow? Snow was an event of pure, unfiltered joy. There’s a version of this lesson that applies to humans, too, and that’s to find the thing that turns you into that version of yourself, and go find more of it.
9. Keep looking until it feels exactly right
Hunter never just picked a spot and accepted it. He’d move from piece to piece on the sectional, circling, adjusting, trying again, until he found the one that was right. He applied this same logic to friends, to people, to life in general. He didn’t settle. Not once. There’s a lesson in that kind of subdued, stubborn refusal to accept less than what you actually need.
10. You don’t have to like everyone, and that’s fine
Three dog friends in 16 years. No interest in children. A very firm preference for people over other animals, and even then, a highly curated list. Hunter never pretended to be something he wasn’t to make other people comfortable. He was a people-dog who happened to be a dog, and he owned it completely.
11. Just showing up matters more than you think
Hunter was my home office companion through years of building this business. He made regular Zoom appearances. Everyone knew him. He became a local celebrity not because he did anything particularly impressive on those calls, but because he was there, reliably, consistently, and warmly present. Sometimes showing up is the whole job.
12. Have a thing, preferably one ridiculous, specific thing that is completely yours
For Hunter, it was Squeaky Shark, not a category of toys—the Squeaky Shark. He knew what he loved, he loved it without apology, and he expected everyone around him to respect it. Find your Squeaky Shark or your Lamb Chop. Protect it accordingly.
13. Stubbornness and patience are basically the same thing
Sixteen years of doing things his way, on his timeline, until one day the timing was right. What looks like stubbornness from the outside can just be someone who knows what they want and isn’t willing to settle until they find it.
14. When you can’t fix it, just stay close
Those last months were hard. Neither of us was sleeping. I was anxious and exhausted and (thinking I was) doing my best to hold it together for him while clearly failing to hide it. And he knew. He always knew. He couldn’t fix what was happening any more than I could, but he stayed close. He let me sit with him. That was enough. Sometimes it’s all any of us can do.
15. Show up for your walks, even on the hard days
Right up until the end, Hunter wanted his walks. His body was failing in ways that were painful to watch, but he still wanted to go, still wanted to be outside, moving, present. That image lives in me. When things are hard, go take the walk anyway.
16. The goodbye you planned isn’t always the one you get—and sometimes the unplanned one is exactly right
I didn’t imagine it ending the way it did. A vet we’d only ever been to for urgent care, a decision made the same morning, a goodbye that felt both too fast and somehow perfectly right. I held him in his dog bed and talked to him. He wandered outside in the sunshine one last time. My husband came home and said his goodbyes. And then we took him, together, and it was peaceful in a way I didn’t expect. Life rarely gives us the ending we scripted. Sometimes what we get is better.
(If you want the full story, including the octopus signs that showed up afterward and absolutely wrecked me in the best possible way, you can read it here.)
17. Love like that doesn’t disappear; it just changes form
Hunter is why this business exists. He’s in every session I photograph, every conversation I have with a client who looks at me and says you understand. He’s in the reason I became a certified pet loss grief specialist, and in every portrait that hangs on someone’s wall long after their dog is gone. He didn’t leave. He just showed up differently.
Hunter taught me so much about love that I was brave enough to do it all over again, almost immediately, for two dogs at once. Nine days later, we brought home Toby and Levi.
He taught us well. And I think he would’ve accepted them. Eventually. After moving to three different spots on the sectional first.
In honor of Hunter’s birthday, we’ve made a donation to Bridge to Home Animal Rescue, the organization that connected us to Toby and Levi. If you feel moved to do the same, you can find them here. This is something we plan to do every May 1 in his honor because the best way to celebrate a life well lived is to help another one find its home.
This is beautiful Jes ❤️. He was such a huge part of everything. I’m glad Tobey and Levi came along to fill a few of the holes he left.