OverFlow: Losing My Best Friend

We had to make the difficult decision and say “yes” to euthanasia.

OverFlow is what happens when I overthink, overflow, and over-everything. When my feelings have nowhere to go, I write about them.

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A few days ago, I lost my best friend. Meatloaf was 12 years old and had a cancer diagnosis, like my Dad did. Loaf’s cancer got worse, even with chemo, and now we are in medical debt and also without him in our lives. We had to make the difficult decision and say “yes” to euthanasia.

The pain and grief I’m feeling are familiar, but still different from what I experienced when my Dad and my father-in-law passed away. Meatloaf was only around for a dozen years, but it felt like he’d been part of my life for much longer. Loaf’s love was unabashedly unconditional, and he loved me at my best and my worst. He was the informal mascot of Amplify.ph—I brought him to work all the time. Loaf made friends with everyone and helped me be more social, even when I wasn’t in the mood. He was there for me and my husband during arguments, difficulties with our living situation, and the move to a whole other country.

Meatloaf had a long life, and he was a very good boy. He would spend days quietly waiting for us in our first apartment in Manila, because he wasn’t supposed to be there (there was a no-pet policy in place). He’d fit into my huge bags, covered by a jacket or blanket, when we’d need to go out with him. Loaf went to gigs in Manila that I covered for Amplify.ph, and some where I actually performed. He went on trips to the beach with us and our friends. He was there for me when I was depressed—when I lost my dream job, when I lost my Dad, and even when my husband and I argued. Loaf would sit next to me, wondering why I was crying, and try to help. He flew with us to the U.S. and eventually went blind here due to a misdiagnosis. He got diagnosed with cancer a few months ago, and slowly grew weaker and less energetic. Toward the end, he could only eat if I was there to feed him with my hands.

Everyone loved Meatloaf, but I think he loved everyone more. I miss him terribly, and sometimes forget that he’s no longer around. I hold my hand out to the floor when I wake up in bed, mumbling apologies because I know I’m waking up too late to feed him. I forget that I disabled that alarm on my phone when I knew he wouldn’t be coming home. When the apartment feels too quiet, too stagnant, I have to stop myself from calling out “Meatloaf!” and clapping, because I know that he won’t make his way to me anymore.

One of my biggest regrets was that we lost him so suddenly and didn’t have the chance to do and say important things for the last time. I didn’t give him his last bite of French fries, I didn’t sing the song I made up for him, I didn’t hold him close, I didn’t smell his fur, I didn’t kiss his tummy. But I kissed the top of his head and whispered, “I love you,” and held his paw as life slipped away from him. He passed on what would have been his brother Mochi’s 10th birthday (September 6, 2025). It’s a small comfort, but it helps—the #TeamOlivar dogs are all together on the other side now: Medic, Mochi, Meatloaf.

With a Mom who breeds Shih Tzus for a living, I’ve been dealing with this kind of loss my whole life. But losing Meatloaf felt different. I felt my heart break. I can’t help but cry. I don’t know what life looks like without him by my feet.

I’ve been sharing this news slowly because I can’t handle talking about it yet. And because this isn’t like telling people that my Dad died. Some of my friends met my Dad and knew him, yes, but Meatloaf knew everyone. And everyone who knew Loaf has a story or a photo with him. Mourning his loss is not just a family experience, but a community one. In these last few days, I’ve seen photos and videos of Loaf that I had no idea were ever taken. I’ve listened to stories about Loaf that are as special as the millions about us that I have archived in my head.

Please, if you have a pet, hug them tightly for me and tell them you love them. And take all the videos and pictures.