Named for the dog who taught us how.

The day I met her

When I was 20, I drove from San Diego up to a high-kill shelter in Los Angeles. I had seen it all over and felt called to go. In the office, I asked who needed to be saved, who was next on their list. They took me to the most scared, shut-down dog I had ever seen.

She was covered in her own feces and wouldn't even get up when we approached her kennel. She had been found on Skid Row in LA, and God knows what she had been through before she ever reached the shelter. She had completely given up.

I asked that she be taken out of the kennel and given a bath. They didn't, so I had my partner at the time run across the street for gallons of water and shampoo, and I bathed her right there in the parking lot.

On the ride home, I was thinking of a name, and the only one that felt right was Hope. It was something she had completely lost, something she may have never had, but I knew the life she would have with me. If there was one thing I could promise her, it was that I would never give up on her, and that she would find her Hope again.

Seven years

The blessing of being her rescue mom was the greatest and most fulfilling experience of my life. Over the next seven years, Hope taught me how to love, how to forgive, and the gift of presence. Most importantly, she taught me that love and patience truly can heal. She comforted me through abuse, divorce, and life changes that I can confidently say I wouldn't have made it through without her.

Her fight

In 2024, Hope was diagnosed with a mast cell tumor. I thought I had good guidance, but the cancer was left inside of her, and nine months later it came back tenfold. I searched everywhere for an answer and finally found a canine oncologist to help.

I did everything in my power to show up for her the way she had always shown up for me: sleepless nights, quitting my job, countless oncology visits, every health supplement I could find, and days of scrolling for a miracle cure. I kept her life and comfort at the forefront of my goal. In those last weeks, we both fought, and I kept the promise I made the day I adopted her.

By December, the cancer had overtaken her, and it was time to say goodbye. For anyone who has had to make that decision, you know it was the hardest of my life. She had seen so much suffering before she found me, and the last thing I could do was watch her suffer more. I knew her comfort and peace mattered more than my own pain. It is said that the greatest and last act of love you can give your animal is to take their suffering and make it your own. Although I fully agree, it doesn't make that pain any easier.

Why the boxes

Her life, from rescue to cancer warrior, is the reason and heart of The Comfort Box Co. She was my reason for many years, and she remains my inspiration even now.

I know how hard these moments are, and I know how much you care. The goal of these boxes is to help those who so selflessly help us and never ask for anything in return. In the toughest moments of their lives, the greatest gift we can give is presence and comfort, even when we feel powerless against everything else.

I hope our boxes bring your dog some comfort, and a few tail wags along the way. In honor of my soul dog, wherever you and your animal may be on their journey, I truly pray you both are able to find H O P E.