The Dogs We Carry🌿 Bunny & Stewart 💛

Love, loss, and remembrance at Moose Lodge Senior Pet Sanctuary

At Moose Lodge, every goodbye leaves a space.

Sometimes that space is quiet. Sometimes it is heavy. Sometimes it becomes part of the house, the yard, the routines, and the places where a dog used to rest, wait, or wander.

In sanctuary work, those spaces are tender. They are not erased, and they are not replaced. But often, in time, another senior dog or poor soul finds comfort there too. A bed that held one beloved dog may later hold another who needs warmth. A routine shaped by one life may help us care for the next. That is one of the bittersweet truths of this work, but the love left behind does not disappear. It becomes part of how we welcome the next dog who needs us.

And still, every goodbye is its own.

Because loving senior pets means loving them in the chapter they are in. Sometimes that chapter is longer than anyone expected. Sometimes it is painfully short. But every time, the promise is the same.

Dear Senior Pet,

Stewart <3

Welcome to your forever home.

Here, you are safe.

Here, you are seen.

Here, you are loved.

And no matter how long you are with us,

you will never be forgotten,

because you live here forever in our hearts

and in the heart of this sanctuary.

Here, you are our mission and our purpose.

The love you bring will stay,

and the pawprints you leave behind

will guide another soul home to Moose Lodge. 🐾

The Heart of Hospice Care at Moose Lodge 🕯️

Senior dogs often come to Moose Lodge from complicated places. Sometimes their person has passed away. Sometimes someone is sick, overwhelmed, or no longer able to afford the care they need. Sometimes families step in. Sometimes they do not. And sometimes dogs arrive confused, neglected, abandoned, surrendered, or simply left at the most vulnerable point in their lives.

That is where sanctuary work begins.

Not with knowing their whole story. Not with being able to fix everything, but with watching, listening, learning, and letting them tell us who they are now.

Some dogs need closeness. Some need quiet. Some need medication, comfort, and consistency. Some need to learn that hands can be gentle. Some need time. Some need space. Some simply need a place where they can finally rest.

And somewhere in that process, they become part of the rhythm of Moose Lodge.

Their routines become our routines. Their needs shape the day. Their little habits become familiar. That is why losing them is not only about the final goodbye. It is about the empty space left in the life we built around caring for them.

At Moose Lodge, hospice means comfort and care, with presence and dignity. It means making sure a dog is as peaceful and comfortable as possible. It means loving them all the way through.

And that is the hardest part.

Because by the time we say goodbye, they are not just dogs we helped. They are part of us.

Stewart 🐾

Stewart when he first arrived, before his shave and bath that revealed the little dog underneath.

We know very little about Stewart’s life before Moose Lodge. He was found as a stray in Elizabeth, New Jersey, and came to us through our friends at For Blake’s Sake Rescue. When he arrived, his fur was in rough shape. After he was completely shaved and bathed, the little dog underneath began to show himself more clearly.

And Stewart had spirit.

He was a grumpy little dog, and that was part of his charm. He was not here to perform for anyone, and he was not trying to be the most affectionate dog in the room. He mostly kept to himself, liked his own space, and moved through the world on his own terms.

But he knew what he liked.

Stewart after his grooming, enjoying one of the things he loved most: being outside.

He never missed a chance to be outside, and allways knew when it was time to find his (Moose Lodge mom) Megan for a meal. And he had a way of making his presence known without asking for too much.

That is one of the lessons senior dogs teach us again and again. Love does not always look the same from one dog to another. For Stewart, love looked like being allowed to be himself.

A meal when he expected one.A safe place to exist.A yard to enjoy.A little space. A little understanding.A home where his grumpiness was not a problem to solve, but simply part of who he was.

Bunny 💛

Bunny, gentle and tired, carrying so much behind those eyes.

Bunny’s story has stayed close to our hearts. He came to Moose Lodge last year through our friends at For Blake’s Sake Rescue after being found tied to a street sign in Staten Island over Easter weekend 2025. He was brought to the police station, and that Easter weekend rescue is what inspired his name.

Bunny.

A name that came from the moment he was found, but somehow fit the softness he still carried. He was one of our largest dogs, and at approximately 11 years old, he likely would not have made it out of a shelter. He had clearly lived a hard life before being rescued.

His body carried the scars of that life. But his spirit was gentle.

That is what everyone remembered.

Not just what had happened to him, or where he had come from. But who he still was after all of it. Kind. Soft. Present. A dog who had every reason to be hardened by life, and yet still met the world with gentleness.

Earlier this week, Bunny passed away shortly after being diagnosed with cancer.

Bunny’s loss touched Moose Lodge in a particular way. Every dog leaves their own kind of space, but Bunny’s grief moved through more than one heart, more than one home. When we learned of his passing from the person who had loved him in his next chapter, the loss came with another layer. It was not only our grief. It was shared grief. It was the ache of knowing that someone else was hurting too, someone else had loved him, someone else had said goodbye.

That is one of the things Bunny reminded us. Rescue does not end the moment a dog leaves one place for another. Love does not disappear when a dog moves into a new chapter. The people who carry them along the way remain connected by the same life, the same hope, the same heartbreak when that life ends. And Bunny was one of those dogs who made that connection feel very real.

Bunny at Moose Lodge, steady and gentle, with a presence that stayed with everyone.

His passing reminded us how important community is in grief. How much it matters to have someone to call. Someone who understands. Someone who knows why this dog mattered, why this hurts, why the loss feels bigger than words.

Pet grief can be lonely.

For most people, there is not always a ceremony. There is not always a ritual. There is not always someone who knows what to say. But when people share the love of an animal, they can also help hold the grief together.

Bunny gave us that reminder.

We miss you, Bunny. 💛

What grief looks like at the sanctuary 🌿

Earlier, we said that every goodbye leaves a space. At Moose Lodge, those spaces do not stay empty in only one way. They become part of the house, the yard, the routines, and the quiet foundation of this sanctuary. Every dog who comes through Moose Lodge leaves something behind, not only in memory, but in the care, tenderness, wisdom, and purpose that shape this place for the next soul who needs us. Grief does not disappear here, but it does have places to go.

It goes into the garden.

Megan’s garden, one of the quiet places where love and remembrance live at Moose Lodge.

Megan prepares burial spaces for the dogs who pass, creating a quiet resting place for the ones who leave us. From the outside, you might just see flowers, grass, sunlight, and earth. But to us, it is more than a garden. It is memory. It is care. It is a way of keeping them close.

It goes onto the wall.

Debbie’s wall of collars, each one belonging to a dog who was loved and remembered at Moose Lodge.

Debbie keeps their collars on the wall, each one holding the shape of a dog who was here. A collar is such a simple thing, but after a dog is gone, it becomes more than that. It becomes a reminder of their body, their routine, their name, and the life they had with us.

It goes onto the shelf too.

Urns kept in remembrance of the Moose Lodge dogs who have passed.

The urns on the shelf hold another kind of memory. They are quiet, personal, and deeply sacred. They remind us that these dogs were not just passing through. They belonged here. They were cared for here. They were loved here, even if only for a short time.

And sometimes grief goes somewhere as simple as getting ice cream together afterward. 🍦

Not because the moment is light. Because it is heavy. Because after staying present through loss, people need something soft. Something ordinary. Something that helps the body come back into the world after the heart has been somewhere very hard.

That is grief too.

A grave in the garden. A collar on the wall. An urn on the shelf. A quiet ride. An ice cream afterward. A name still said out loud. These are the ways we carry them.

For Stewart and Bunny 💛🐾

This week, Moose Lodge feels their absence.

Stewart, in the quiet way he moved through the day. Bunny, in the softness and strength he carried with him. They were different dogs, that needed different things, and left different spaces behind, but they were both loved.

And in a sanctuary, that is the promise we return to again and again. To love them in the time they have. To learn who they are. To honor what they need. To stay with them as long as we can. And when they go, to remember them as part of us.

Run free, Stewart. Rest easy, Bunny. 🌈