When I met Django, he was 3 weeks old, hiding under a shed while twelve of his brothers and sisters came bounding up to me with all the jubilance and excitement of little children. Then I noticed once dog (now excavated from under the shed) just sitting behind all the commotion, just calmly taking everything in from the sidelines. I left the excitement to join this solo puppy, to see if he’d run or be afraid of me. Once I sat down, he just keep looking out at his family, and placed his head on my knee. I wept then.

Little did I know how kindred this spirit would be to me.

Django is passionate, and incredibly kind and gentle and affectionate. When he looks you in the eye, he sees you. He sees more than I will ever know. Django has also always been a loner, a bit of an outsider. Other dogs often don’t accept him, or think he’s interesting. When he starts running with a pack, he’s usually left behind. And while I know this sometimes makes him sad, he’s always ready with a smile and a tail wag, and more kisses then anyone can really stand. Django taught me how to be okay with myself. How to be okay alone.

Django won a kissing contest once. The prize was a professional Christmas photo shoot with Santa. He did not like Santa. Santa was happy to take a break. Django did, however, love the wrapped presents.

Django likes to sit in my backyard and watch the birds. He watches the squirrels. He listens to the sounds of the nature. In short, he is zen. He’s taught me this— the beauty of stillness, the pleasure of nature undisturbed, and the peace of quiet.

Remarkable thing to be taught by a dog.

The lessons never stopped. We’ve taught each other a lot over the last 11 years. But perhaps the most important thing Django has taught me was that life— despite the horrendous hardship it might wrought upon you— is always worth living if you choose to love it.

In 2021, I had a plan to take my own life. I spent months working on it, putting it down on paper, racking my mind on the method, the timing, the aftermath… planning notes to friends and family… life really had nothing to offer me. But Django did. This dog is the only reason I’m alive today.

It’s for this reason especially that I owe him everything I can do to save his life.

Today— August 11th, 2025, a massive tumor was found clinging on to his spleen and part of his liver. He needs immediate surgery if he has any chance of living. And yes, even with the surgery, he may not live long after. He may not survive the surgery. I just don’t know.

But this dog gave not just me, but every creature big and small, a reason to live, a reminder that love can and does come in all packages. He deserves everything I’ve got, everything I can do.

His surgery, along with all the preliminary tests and evaluations is quickly eclipsing $11,000. I’m a bartender. This is more then I could ever hope to save in even many years.

And so, I ask anyone who’s ever met him or met any dog or animal that reminded you how to live and how to love to share his story, and if you can, share a dollar or two. Any and everything means the world to us.