Losing these two - six weeks apart... 

Every once in a while, you are gifted the companionship of one who speaks to your soul, one who enhances your life in ways that were never known to be possible previously. Such was the case with these two - Moose, the seven and a half year old Great Dane, and Mae, the 13 year old white lab. Both of them were more than mere companions, each in their different way. 

Mae was trained at the age of 2 to become an accelerant detection canine (or in other words, an arson dog). She and Dean trained together, worked together, and lived together 24/7/365. As a team, they excelled in their mutual profession and as a result, were able to help convict arsonists to the collective tune of almost 400 years of jail time. They poured over fire scene after fire scene, looking for any indication of an accelerant such as gasoline or the like that would indicate a fire might have been started intentionally. Sometimes they would find nothing, because the fire was accidental in nature. Other times, Mae would alert and point to the spot, and that spot would be dug, and sent to the lab for analysis. She was a rock star by all accounts. Mae was a true worker, and when she retired, seemed almost lost without her job. Quickly though, she learned to be a companion to her adopted Great Dane siblings, and together they were an inseparable pack. I had often wondered how Mae performed her duties for 6 and a half years, and never got cancer. One night in early October, Mae started seizing in the middle of the night. Even with medication and emergency vet care, the seizures never stopped. Two days later, we lost her. Our hearts broken, and our minds confused - how could this just happen as it did? She’d never had a seizure in her entire life. The vet surmised that she must have had a previously undetected brain tumor. Ah, the dreaded cancer that I had often wondered about. We will never know for certain, but we do know that Mae was an amazing dog, all the way up until her last breath. 

Moose was one of 10 puppies born to fire department friends of ours who were looking to home them with people they knew, so they could watch them grow through the years. From the moment we went to meet Moose, his big heart and his loving soul were evident. He was “the one” we’d adopt, and give the best of lives to, no doubt. When adoption prospects were slimming for our friends, they asked if we’d take 2 Great Dane puppies instead of just one. “Are you *&%$@ crazy?” I thought. Who in their right mind would take two at the same time? After all, these guys were going to grow to be about 150 lbs each! Well, after many days of soul searching, researching, and discussion - we did take two, Moose and his sister who was originally named Princess, but became Miley. She was named after Miley Cyrus, who at that time was the beloved “Hannah Montana,” who my daughters watched on TV regularly. Moose and Miley - it just fit. They were never separated, and became each other’s best friend. Moose was the gentle giant, the constant lover, the one whom you need not even speak to sometimes with your voice, but only your eyes. He got it, and he was there for me during some of the darkest times in my life. The only thing in our house bigger than Moose, was his love for all of us. Exactly one week after losing Mae, we got the news that the limp he was suddenly exhibiting, was bone cancer. My already crushed heart was completely devastated. How could this be happening? Not my Moose-man... please God, no. I know I can’t keep him forever but.... no!! The tears I cried over a six week period could fill an ocean. My grief was real, my grief was painful, and my grief was a blessing in the end. 

The love that you are gifted in this lifetime is so often missed because of our busy lives, our constant need for being busy - our own selfishness, even. But going through this grieving process allowed me to understand that our love for each other was real - no less real than the love between two humans. Our pets become our family, and to a certain extent, become an extension of ourselves since we imprint them as babies and raise them to be like we want them to be. What they give us in return cannot be measured in years, or in kisses, or in walks in the park. What they give us in return is so much more - they give our souls the gift of true unconditional love. We should all be so lucky in life! This was my blessing, to feel him in my soul, where he’ll always live. 

Much love,

Goodbye My Shadow — Sindy Explores Pet Loss and Absence

Across her catalog, Sindy explores confidence, image, desire, and self-reflection—but few songs carry the emotional weight of Goodbye My Shadow.

The song is a quiet, devastating reflection on the loss of a beloved dog. Rather than dramatizing grief, Goodbye My Shadow focuses on absence—the everyday details that suddenly feel unbearable. A leash that no longer moves. A food bowl left untouched. A house that’s technically full, yet emotionally empty.

The lyrics frame the dog not just as a pet, but as a constant companion—a shadow. Someone always there, always present, now suddenly gone. Lines like “The world’s so quiet / It’s lost its glow” capture the strange stillness that follows pet loss, when routines remain but meaning doesn’t.

While the song is deeply personal, it resonates because pet loss is a uniquely shared experience. For many people, pets are emotional anchors—sources of comfort, structure, and unconditional presence. Losing them doesn’t just mean losing an animal; it means losing a rhythm, a sense of being accompanied.

Goodbye My Shadow doesn’t offer closure or platitudes. It lingers in the slow, lonely aftermath—the walks taken alone, the quiet yard, the memories that surface in dreams. In doing so, it becomes one of Sindy’s most emotionally direct songs, connecting with listeners who understand that this kind of grief doesn’t need explanation—only recognition.

Watch this video and more on Sindy's official website https://gothgirlsindy.com/