The Privilege of a Second Chance

Reunited with Judge • February 16th, 2025

I was given two options: immediate surgery or I needed to say goodbye. The surgery wasn’t guaranteed, the risks were high, and there was no promise of a miracle. But when I looked into Judge’s eyes, I knew it wasn’t time for us to part.

You see, his eyes told me everything—full of life, determination, and an unbreakable spirit that’s always defined him. And in those eyes, I saw a Rolodex of memories and moments in which Judge never gave up on me. Not once. Through every high and low, he’s been there, my constant, my protector, my best friend. How could I possibly give up on him now?

The doctors were honest. They told me the risks, the during and post-operative possibilities. But they also told me Judge was strong with an excellent heart—minus a bum spleen, Judge was a relatively healthy German Shepherd. It was all I needed to hear.

But making that choice was a privilege.

Emergency surgery isn’t just a matter of love and loyalty—it’s a matter of resources. It requires financial stability, access to specialized care, and the ability to take time away from life’s other responsibilities to be fully present for recovery. Not everyone has that choice. For many, the cost of life-saving surgery for a pet is simply out of reach. For others, the lack of nearby medical facilities or the inability to take time off work becomes the deciding factor.

When I stood at that crossroads, I was painfully aware of this privilege. I had a support system that rallied around me, offering love, prayers, and help with life’s other demands. I had access to my own veterinarian, the Veterinary Emergency Group, and Cornell’s exceptional veterinary team which carried out the life saving surgery. Without any one of those things, the outcome could have been heartbreakingly different.

This awareness weighed heavily on me because I know so many people face the same gut-wrenching decision without the resources to choose hope. I was able to fight for Judge because I had the privilege to do so. But others have to make the hardest choice of all—not because they don’t love their pets just as fiercely, but because life’s realities leave them no other option.

Judge isn’t just a dog. He’s my family, my guardian, my heart. He’s watched over my son, protected our home, and shown me a love so pure it’s changed me for the better. He is the reason why I started my entire dissertation over and focused on the adolescent-animal bond in secondary settings. In Judge, I saw the power of connection, the depth of loyalty, and the healing power that only a dog’s love can bring. His impact on my life was profound enough to shape my career, my research, and my purpose.

Today, the doctors are hopeful. Even with three liters of blood in his abdomen, the surgery was clean, a successful splenectomy, and Judge is home healing. He’s eating like the picky king of the castle that he is, back to reigning over his Mötley crew, his spirit as unbreakable as ever. Watching Judge return to himself, sneaking back to his spot on the couch, seeing that familiar spark in his eyes cataloging another memory together—it’s nothing short of a miracle.

Judge’s road to recovery won’t be easy, but he’s here, alive, because he never gave up and because I had the privilege to fight for him—just as he’s always fought for me. But for those who aren’t given that choice, my heart aches.

I will never take for granted the opportunity I had to fight for Judge and will advocate for solutions to ensure all pet parents can make balanced choices for the well-being of their furry family member—without having to choose between love and necessity. It’s my hope that one day, every pet parent will have the freedom to choose what’s best for their pet, without limitations.


I want to sincerely thank the veterinary teams at White Plains Animal Hospital, Veterinary Emergency Group of White Plains, and Cornell University Veterinary Specialists of Stamford. Your expertise, compassion, and dedication have meant everything to our family and Judge. You’ve given us more than just a second chance—you’ve given us hope. I am forever grateful for all you’ve done to give us back our Judgie Boy.

“Good Boy,” K9 Steven

NYPD K9 Steven, named after the late Manhattan Detective Steven McDonald, passed away after a battle with cancer; he was 7 years old. K9 Steven, a Dutch Shepherd, was more than a working dog for the NYPD. He transcended his role as a police dog, mirroring the heroic spirit of his namesake and partner, Officer Joe Brayuha.

For six years, K9 Steven and Officer Joe Brayuha formed an inseparable partnership that showcased an unparalleled commitment to their duty. Together, they undertook deployments with NY Task Force 1, demonstrating their versatility, resilience, and unwavering readiness to rise to challenges in moments of crisis. The trials they overcame together, and the unspoken camaraderie they embodied, oh the stories they must have exchanged…

I felt compelled to reach out to Officer Brayuha and our conversations, though brief, resonated deeply. He shared that K9 Steven had an extraordinary ability to connect with people, “he loved everyone he met.” And as I continued to read Officer Brayuha’s response, it became very clear why, as a dog-lover and advocate for animal-assisted therapies, I was curious to learn more about their bond—a bond that, in essence, is more similar than different from the bond I have with my own dogs, and probably more similar than different from your understanding of the human-animal bond.

K9 Steven and Officer Brayuha are, in fact, archetypal beings themselves, and when combined, they form an archetypal duo, the same archetypal duo easily recognized in movies, literature, and typed across front page headlines of real life. They are the quintessential archetypal duo that navigate archetypal situations together, rely on each other in countless ways to make it through archetypal conflicts and to overcome archetypal antagonists.

In many ways, K9 Steven emerged as a modern-day representation of the tragic hero archetype, bravely confronting cancer head-on, Sadly, when our furry friends receive a cancer diagnosis, it is a very tough archetypal villain to defeat.

Which is why there comes a time when the tragic hero must say goodbye, and that goodbye is especially hard when there is nothing more either archetypal character can do to prevent the inevitable closure to a plot line neither wants to end.

And as is life, the story resumes.

This time though, the onus to continue the duo’s mission and K9 Steven’s legacy doesn’t just fall on Officer Joe Brayuha—it’s a collective effort. And my small part is represented in this post.

I created a digital collage of K9 Steven, entitled “Good Boy,” and found my creative inspiration from reading about K9 Steven and viewing his Instagram. If you look close you can observe the Chrysler Building and even Officer Brayuha. It is my intention to share a digital copy with Officer Brayuha as well as get a framed copy to him. I hope it will serve as a reminder of the duo’s positive impact, and their continued impact on others.

K9 Steven was most definitely a “good boy.” You’ll be missed, buddy.