That evening, I learned that witnessing a farewell can also become a source of hope.
I was sitting on a wooden bench in Madrid’s Retiro Park. Just a few days earlier, I had met my friend Jack there, together with the dogs he called his “children.” The blooming pink and purple trees, the runners, the people strolling through the park, and the dogs happily walking beside their owners had filled me with both peace and joy.
This time was different. There was a heaviness inside me. I was waiting to meet Jack and his dog Dana to go the animal hospital just across the park. Dana was very ill. Nothing had been decided yet, but when Jack told me he wanted me to be there, I understood what the evening might bring.
I already knew the story of Jack and his five adopted dogs:
Dana was the first dog Jack had taken full responsibility for. Despite his busy schedule, he continued to make room in his life for other dogs in need. Over the years, four more adopted dogs joined the family, and he told me how Dana had naturally taken on the role of the older brother.
Like any move to another country, Jack’s decision to move from Istanbul to Madrid was not an easy one. And there was another responsibility to consider: he wanted to bring with him all five dogs he had taken into his care.
The younger and healthier dogs made the journey to Madrid one by one by plane. But two of the older dogs, including Dana, were considered too old to fly, so they remained in Istanbul a little longer.
Sadly, one of them suddenly became ill. Jack travelled back from Madrid to Istanbul and stayed with him through his final night.
That left Dana..
Not long after, Jack drove all the way from Madrid to Istanbul to bring Dana back. They travelled together through different cities and countries on the long journey to Madrid.
What I remembered most about Dana were his eyes—one blue, the other brown—and his enormous body. There was something about him that made me feel he had seen and experienced a great deal in his life. I don’t know whether it was his age or simply the way he looked at you, but there was always a sense of maturity and quiet dignity about him.
When we met near the animal hospital, Dana was walking with great effort. Jack and the vet talked for a while, and I understood that the decision was to put Dana to sleep to prevent further suffering.
Dana was lying on the examination table, his head resting on his front paws. He was quiet, his eyes fixed on Jack. He seemed calm and accepting, still looking at him with love. For a moment, I even felt as though he was trying to ease my friend’s pain. At one point, Jack asked me to say goodbye too. I whispered into Dana’s ear.
Jack said goodbye through his tears. Until Dana took his last breath, he kept repeating the same words: “My boy, I love you so much. My boy, I love you.” That night in Madrid, I saw an extraordinary bond between two gentle souls, filled with love and devotion.
We went back to Retiro Park, which at that time was dark. I don’t remember much of what we talked about during that walk. What I remember is the empty leash in Jack’s hand.
Looking back, I could see how Jack’s choices reflected his values. Even when circumstances became difficult, he remained committed to the responsibility he had taken on.
Viktor Frankl connects freedom with responsibility. That is to say, even in the most difficult circumstances, we are free to choose, but we are also responsible for what we choose.
That evening also made me think again about death and loss. Sometimes it is hard to remember that we are mortal. We know that death is inevitable, yet experiencing loss reminds us of this reality. Perhaps when we remember that our time is limited, we choose to live more meaningfully and to love more.
Perhaps this is why Frankl’s words came back to me that night: “The salvation of man is through love and in love.”
The connection created through love does not simply disappear when we have to say goodbye. It continues in our memories, in the meaning we carry with us, and sometimes, in the stories we tell. Today, Jack continues to share his life and love with his three dogs, travelling with them by car.
Why has that evening stayed with me? And why did it mean so much to me at such a difficult time?
At a time when the darkness in the world had also touched my own life, I had come to Madrid after spending weeks surrounded by war, fear, and anxiety.
As I witnessed this painful farewell between Jack and Dana, I found myself reconnecting with the values that matter most to me—connection, kindness, and love. Seeing them so clearly again reminded me of what still matters.
That is why painful stories like this deserve to be told, because sometimes, within them, we find hope.
Suzi Sabaner