A dog that loves his Mom and a Mom that loves her son. Fighting breast cancer. She has it. He does not. Fighting the fight together.

I think of her and I think of her dog. And the conversations they must have. I think of their brave fear. Their courageous fear.

The same brave and courageous fear that everyone has when fighting cancer. It is fear not to be pitied. It is fear to be cheered. It is fear to be reckoned with. Because that fear brings strength.

They are a team. They are family. The soft breeze you feel is the swoosh of his wagging tail bouncing back and forth. The soft rain you feel are her tears of joy.

And mine too.

Tears shed because her doctor told her there is nothing more for him to do.

I think of her. Her doctor. And her dog. And I cry.

I truly appreciate all of you for reading my words. I don’t write them for any purpose other than to share a snippet of my days at The Pongo Fund.

I refuse to sugarcoat these moments. I write them raw. There is no editor.

That so many of you take the time to consider them and comment on them is a true honor for me. It really is. And I thank you.

Cancer sucks. If you’ve had it, you know. And if you’ve been lucky enough to avoid it, you still know.

There’s just no easy way to talk about it. I don’t have it but it took both of my parents. And it took them far too soon.

I was lucky enough to be there with them for thousands of moments that they never would have wanted me there for.

But each and every one of those moments was an honor.

I knew it then. And I remember it now.

And if I could do it all over again, I would. Praying the whole time for a better outcome.

The woman has breast cancer. And the love of her dog may be just as powerful as the drugs used to fight that cancer.

And when I heard their story I cried.

I cried because this woman fighting cancer was told by her doctor that there was nothing left to do. She was told she did not need to return. There was no more treatment. And I feared the worst.

I thought of her and I thought of her dog. And I could feel my voice crack even though I was not even speaking. I could just feel it along with my suddenly watery eyes.

And then came one more sentence from the person telling me the story.

And that next sentence brought me an explosion of joy. The final sentence that told me the reason her doctor would not see her anymore.

Because the cancer was gone.

To you, my two friends that I have never met, I love you. I love you both to the moon and back. I love you for loving each other. And I thank you, both of you, for fighting this brave fight together.

You are brave warriors. You are heroes. And you won!

I hate cancer. It is not my friend. But I am a friend to anyone fighting it. And I celebrate with joy every time someone kicks its ass. Like this woman did. With her dog that loves her.

To your doctor and medical team, thank you. Whoever you are. Wherever you are. You did well.

Although this moment goes beyond the work that The Pongo Fund normally does, it still hit me as a moment that I want to celebrate. I don’t know how to tell the story. But I just wanted to share it.

Because I’ve lost too many friends and family to cancer. Several just in the past few months.

But not this time.

Someday cancer is going to be too scared to return. Because it knows it will lose every fight it starts. Those days have to be close. And in my heart I believe they are.

And for those that did not win this time around, the good news is that when one beats it, all beat it. Even though it may not seem that way at the time. But it has to be true. It just has to be.

Being there with words and hope for those that need them most. Two legged and four.

With kibble and more.

And this is why we Pongo.

Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. thepongofund.org