Dakota: Forever Chasing Bunnies

Right from the start, she was trouble.

The first stop after leaving the animal rescue shelter was PetSmart to pick up a few essentials. Dakota was wearing only a slip leash. As soon as the car door opened, she wriggled free and took off running through the parking lot. The very first purchase I made for her was a proper collar and leash.

Looking back now, I should have known exactly what kind of dog I was bringing home. Dakota wasn’t interested in sitting quietly in the back seat. She was already planning her first adventure.

Richard, Dakota, and I quickly became a tight-knit family. Every day revolved around Dakota. She was an incredibly active dog who loved long walks, hiking, and running free at the dog park. She adored the snow, loved wading through Clear Creek in downtown Golden, and eventually even figured out how to swim in the lake at the dog park.

But more than anything else, Dakota was obsessed with chasing bunnies.

For at least the first two years, every walk required constant vigilance. The moment Dakota spotted a rabbit, she would lunge with her full body weight and could easily yank the leash right out of your hand. Once she was free, she would race to every place in the neighborhood where she had ever seen a bunny. She became completely deaf to her own name. Sometimes she would even stop, look back at you from a distance, and then decide that chasing the bunny was still the better option. She was always on a mission.

Not even a storm door could stop Dakota from escaping for a bunny chase.

One afternoon we were visiting Grandma Andi and Grandpa John. We were enjoying drinks and snacks on the back deck when Dakota spotted a bunny in the front yard. She backed up to the patio door, got a running start, and charged straight into the glass storm door. The latch wasn’t fully secured, the door burst open, and she was gone.

The search party immediately began.

We could hear her excited yipping as she tore through the neighborhood on the hunt. Even passing neighbors stopped to ask if we were looking for a dog and commented on how unbelievably fast she was. Eventually she tired herself out and wandered back home, where Grandma Andi already had a fresh bowl of cold water waiting for her.

Life with Dakota was never boring.

Over the years, Dakota became the unofficial queen of Golden and the Colorado School of Mines campus. Whenever we were in town, her mission was always the same: visit every favorite bunny spot she knew. She was incredibly determined and rarely wanted to go anywhere except where she had already decided.

Even a simple walk through downtown meant stopping to inspect every restaurant patio for dropped food. She searched the alleys for forgotten snacks and memorized which stores handed out dog treats to passing pups. Dakota was incredibly intelligent, and her hunting instincts seemed to guide almost everything she did.

Although Dakota was fiercely independent and preferred having her own personal space, she was also a constant companion.

Richard and I took her everywhere. We explored new hiking trails, wandered through mountain towns like Evergreen, Idaho Springs, and Silverthorne, and spent countless weekends outdoors together. She kept us active and helped us build a wonderful community by introducing us to other dog families throughout our neighborhood.

That was Dakota’s unique way of showing love.

In mid-2025, our veterinarian began expressing concern about some of Dakota’s lab results. Because she still seemed so energetic and healthy, it was easy to believe nothing was seriously wrong. Even when I left for Korea in February, she was still her usual adventurous self.

Yet deep down, I knew there was a chance that saying goodbye at the airport might be the last time I would ever see her.

By the end of May, Richard realized Dakota’s health was declining rapidly. She was eating less, becoming less active, and slowly losing weight. Soon her ribs were visible, and jaundice had begun to appear in her eyes.

It was finally time to make the heartbreaking decision to let Dakota go.

On her final evening, all of Dakota’s neighborhood dog families gathered at the local park. One last time, while enjoying some leash-free freedom, she spotted a bunny and took off running through the neighborhood.

Even at the very end, her hunting instinct remained as strong as ever.

From the other side of the world, I joined a video call with Richard, Dakota, and the in-home veterinary hospice nurse. Although it was two o’clock in the morning for me, there was nowhere else I could have been.

Saying goodbye to a beloved pet is never easy. Saying goodbye from halfway around the world was heartbreaking.

As Dakota closed her eyes for the final time, I sat thousands of miles away sobbing. Throughout her life, every adventure had included either her Papa (me), her Daddy (Richard), or both of us.

This final adventure was one she had to take alone.

She crossed the Rainbow Bridge forever surrounded by our love—and finally free to chase bunnies for eternity.