Yesterday I said goodbye to my best friend.

Spencer passed away after a sudden and heartbreaking decline. Just days ago, he still had that familiar spark in his eyes. He was tired, but steady. I truly believed we had more time. I had been preparing myself slowly, if that’s even possible, but I was yesterday hit like a storm. His decline came so quickly, and I had to make the hardest choice I’ve ever made: to help him pass peacefully, with love and dignity.

Spencer and I found each other when I was just 21 years old. I rescued him from a shelter in New York City after he had battled early medical issues and long stretches of isolation. It was love at first sight. I knew in that instant my life had changed. I may have rescued him, but the truth is he saved me, more than once.

I’ve never been an adult without him. We grew up together. We toured the country together. We saw the Grand Canyon, climbed mountains, and played in the both the Pacific and Atlantic oceans. We’ve been through breakups, moves, career changes, and all of life’s twists and turns. Wherever I was, Spencer was home.

In my darkest days and rock-bottom moments, he was the only reason I got out of bed. The only reason I didn’t give up. I didn’t quit on myself because he needed me, though never half as much as I needed him.

As he aged, I did everything I could to keep him comfortable and well. In the last six months, we saw vets, ran tests for his heart and tried medications, and I prepared for the unknown. I fought for him with everything I had and tried to prepare both of us for a peaceful goodbye. But I wasn’t ready for how fast everything changed.

Now, in the middle of this grief, I am also facing something I didn’t want to admit. I need help.

The vet bills, medications, blood  work, echocardiogram, and the final cost of letting him go gently have added up quickly. I used credit cards to keep up but those can be impossible to get out of and it wasn’t enough. I’ve fallen behind and I need help.

It’s incredibly humbling to share this, and truthfully, I feel embarrassed. But I know so many of you in my life would be the first to remind me that vulnerability is a form of strength. So I’m reaching out.

If you ever met Spencer, or even if his little face in these photos touches you, or if you know the kind of love I’m describing, I hope you’ll consider supporting this campaign. Every dollar helps. Every share matters. Every kind word lifts a little of the weight.

Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for honoring him with me. And thank you for helping carry a little bit of this heartbreak so I don’t have to do it alone.