08/29/2026
Pastor's Post
Dear People
Last week was an incredibly tough week for Fran and I. We lost our sweet Golden Retriever boy, Hudson, completely unexpectedly. On Tuesday of last week, Hudson was . . . well . . . Hudson, just doing all the Hudson things. Upon coming in the house after my bike ride, he jumped up and put his paws on my shoulders giving me a big hug and lots of kisses. Way too many kisses! That was a pretty normal thing for him. He sat out on the deck with me while I read my Bible, sometimes right next to me, other times laying in his favorite spot. As the day went on Hudson was full of life and energy doing what he loved the most, hanging out with his family. There was no indication of any kind of health problem, and I think he was probably completely fine at that point.
On Wednesday morning I got up and began to do my morning duties. One of those was to put fresh water in Hudson’s inside and outside dog bowls. I noticed the inside bowl was almost empty which was surprising because Fran always filled it up before going to bed. After filling it I started heading out the front door to get the outdoor bowl when I noticed a big turd on the rug in front of the door. Which was surprising. Hudson did his business outside. And then I noticed that he had thrown up on the living room carpet. Now I’m beginning to realize he’s apparently sick. As I began to clean up the messes, I noticed that Hudson was laying down in front of his water bowl, and drank about half of it before we took it away from him at which point he moved over a bit and then threw up a lake on the kitchen floor. No question about it, we were going to the vet’s first thing.
Hudson and I arrived at the vet’s as they were opening up. Instead of the normal energy of bolting out of the vehicle and sniffing everything in sight, I could barely get him inside. In getting into the examination room, Hudson just laid down. He was so lethargic. When Dr. Nate Kotschwar came in, I could tell he was gravely concerned. Holdrege Veterinary had always boarded Hudson when we were out of town, so they knew how full of life he normally was. After examining Hudson, Dr. Nate found he had an elevated heart rate, and expressed his worry. He then picked him up off the floor, and carried him back to do an x-ray, some blood work, and put him on fluids. At this point, understanding the seriousness of it, I texted my family that they would pray God would preserve Hudson’s life.
After about 45 minutes, Dr. Nate came back to the exam room and showed me the x-ray, and results of the blood work, and was actually quite relieved he didn’t see any problems. He even told me he didn’t think this was life threatening. Which was a great relief to me. Although there wasn’t the accompanying pain, he thought that maybe Hudson had a bowel obstruction, or twisted gut or spleen. They were going to run dye through him to see if it would pass through his system, they would know in a couple of hours, and I could come back and check on Hudson then. I told Dr. Nate that before I left I wanted to see Hudson. I’m so glad I did. They carried him up to the exam room hooked to the IV, and he just laid on the floor. And I got down on my knees, petted him, told him what a great dog he was, and that he was a fighter, and needed to fight this (Hudson was hit by a pickup in his first year which should have killed him, but fought to stay alive). And then after a few minutes, not wanting to delay the procedure, I told Hudson I would see him later.
I arrived back at the clinic at 11:45. Teresa, the office manager, went and checked on him, came back and reported that Hudson was in cardiac arrest. At about 11:55, Dr. Nate came out and told me they lost him. I couldn’t believe it. Our strong vibrant wonderful Golden Boy was gone! Dr. Nate said the dye hadn’t gone through his system, and as they were discussing if he was strong enough for surgery, Hudson went into cardiac arrest. This dude who we loved so much, and thought we had several more years with was gone. I was thoroughly shocked and completely devastated. And then I had to go home and tell Fran who was also completely shocked and devastated as well thinking I was coming home with a next steps report for Hudson.
Later that afternoon they did an autopsy on Hudson, and found it wasn’t a bowel obstruction, or twisted gut or spleen, but rather, he died of a hemangiosarcoma which is a malignant cancer of blood vessels found on Hudson’s right atrium of his heart which ruptured causing him to bleed out. It probably happened right before I got up Wednesday morning. There was nothing that could have been done. It was only a matter of time. Dr. Nate said these are common in Golden Retrievers, but usually not as young as Hudson. He would have been five in November. He said Hudson was the youngest he had ever seen.
To say we have been missing our sweet Golden boy is an understatement. We are a couple of empty nesters who love dogs, and loved and doted on Hudson. And he returned that affection and love in so many ways. These past ten days have been a real adjustment getting used to Hudson not being there. We miss the ecstatic warm greetings when arriving home, his pushing against us with his body, one of his ways of hugging us. We miss him hanging out with us throughout our daily activities. As mentioned, my Bible reading on the deck in the mornings, and as of this last year, I started taking Hudson with me in my vehicle almost everywhere. Fran misses him curling up beside her or under her feet as she works at her desk or the kitchen table. She actually forgot herself last Saturday, and called for him to come be with her. She misses having “popcorn time” with Hudson every afternoon. It was their routine. Also their routine, she would go outside with him for him to do his business every night before bedtime. In the mornings when I came out, he would plunk himself in front of me to get some love and a belly scratch. And speaking of scratches the dude was constantly backing up to us to get his hiney scratched. We loved how he would proudly retrieve one of his stuffed animals, sometimes two at a time, and we would tell him what a “brilliant retriever” he was. I could go on and on, in so many ways, Hudson’s life and our lives were inextricably linked, and now we are having to get used to him not being here. It has been a sad ten days.
We are thankful, however. Thankful for the wonderful 4 ½ years we had with him. He gave us tremendous joy. He was super loving, and as I’ve mentioned, wanted to be in the middle of our lives. We are also thankful we hadn’t gotten another dog yet since our dog Scout died last year. We were going to, but we didn’t relish the work and mess of a puppy. But as it’s turned out, it allowed us to focus all of our attention on Hudson this past year. And then another thing we are incredibly grateful to the Lord for is that this fatal event didn’t occur while we were out of town when Hudson wasn’t with us. Next week we’ll be in Minnesota. That would have been even more devastating.
We are thankful to the Lord for Hudson. In writing in this post back on February 19, 2022, four days after his arrival in our home (interestingly, 4 ½ years to the day he died), I stated we were confident he would grow up to be a great dog. Not only did he, he was the greatest dog we’ve ever had. Hudson The Great. And yes, in time, we will, Lord willing, get another Golden Retriever. But after this tribute, and all of this expression of love for a dog, which some of you, let’s be honest, don’t have a box for, here’s a truth for all of us I want to emphasize. The loss of Hudson speaks to the uncertainty of life. There was absolutely no warning of what was going to happen to him. Zero. Nadda. He was completely fine the Tuesday before last, and then by noon the next day he was dead. We don’t know what life will bring.
Exponentially more important than Hudson, I think of pastor, author, speaker, blogger, Tim Challies, who lost his son Nick. He had been playing a game with his sister, fiancé, and other students at his college when he suddenly collapsed and died. Nick was a healthy 20 year old who the Lord unexpectedly took home to be with Him. James 4:14 says, “Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” Indeed, we do not know what will happen tomorrow. Losing a beloved dog unexpectedly is one thing, but it is quite another to abruptly lose a spouse, child, grandchild, parent, or sibling.
The day after Tim and Aileen Challies lost their son Nick he wrote this in his blog:
Yesterday Aileen and I cried and cried until we could cry no more, until there were no tears left to cry. Then, later in the evening, we looked each other in the eye and said, “We can do this.” We don’t want to do this, but we can do this --- this sorrow, this grief, this devastation --- because we know we don't have to do it in our own strength. We can do it like Christians, like a son and daughter of the Father who knows what it is to lose a Son.
And then about six months later when the autopsy report came out indicating that Nick died of a heart issue in which little could have been done to save him, Tim blogged this:
And it was comforting in the sense that it was so clearly an act of providence in which the Lord just took him. All we can do is bow the knee.
What a tremendous attitude, wonderful perspective, in the surprising and even not surprising devastating losses of our lives, “all we can do is bow the knee.” With Fran’s eye cancer, some other trials going on, and now with the sudden loss of our sweet dog, may that be our response, all we can do is bow the knee, and know that the Lord loves us, and has got us. It is about His will and work in our lives.
Tomorrow, we continue on with our series, The Gospel Of John – That You May Believe, as we finish out chapter four with the message entitled “Real Faith” from verses 43-54. In this story about Jesus healing the royal official’s son, we learn the characteristics of real faith compared to shallow faith. I hope to see you all on this last Sunday of August!
May We Bow The Knee Before Him
Randy
