On April 7th, 2025, we said goodbye to our sweet Ivy. Here is the post I made on one of her last days with us.
There will never be enough words to describe how Ivy changed Cayleb’s life. She brought him safety, calm during even the most difficult transitions, and gave him something no one else could—an identity that was not defined by his disability. With Ivy by his side, Cayleb was no longer just the kid who struggled; he was the kid with the incredible service dog. She helped him navigate his world with confidence and dignity, offering him comfort, stability, and the freedom to just be himself.
At the dog park, Ivy would find the biggest stick she could carry and tempt another dog to chase her—she was rarely caught. She loved walks, car rides, the cottage, and simply being wherever her people were. True to her Lab nature, she also loved sneaking food—her very first night with us, she stole an entire loaf of bread from the counter.
She loved being in the sun and spending time with Grandpa—probably her favourite person ever—who always seemed to have a treat tucked away in his pocket and an impressive track record of bending the rules. Even though I minded, Ivy never did. In fact, she might have encouraged it.
I’ll never be able to fully express my gratitude to the village who brought Ivy into our lives.
She was lovingly raised by Josie and Misha Winterfield and their family, who devoted 18 months of love, patience, and dedication to her early training. From there, she moved on to advanced training with the incredible team at National Service Dogs—Cathy, Vicki, Jillian, Tamara, and Katrina—who helped shape her into the calm, reliable, heroic dog she became. Just after her second birthday, Ivy came home to us.
My coworkers, friends, and family helped us raise over $27,000 for Ivy’s training. The staff at Cayleb’s schools went above and beyond—learning how to work with Ivy, supporting Cayleb, and loving her deeply. One of them even named their family dog after Ivy. So many people supported Paws for Cayleb, donating generously and helping organize and run fundraisers. Your efforts created real change.
Ozzy, Ivy’s absolute best doggy friend, met her when he was just eight weeks old. Lucky quickly became her eager student, and Finneas is trying his best too. Ivy’s impact on every dog she met was just as profound as it was on the people around her.
B and H—you had the hardest time ignoring Ivy so that she would bond with Cayleb. I cannot imagine how difficult it was for two young kiddos to have a dog in the home that they weren’t allowed to interact with. Such a huge and unfair sacrifice. Of course, you both fell in love with Ivy anyway. H often extended her five-minute per day cuddles and took on the baths later on. B, who started walking Ivy from age 12, always respected the bond she had with Cayleb.
Now, the time has come to say goodbye.
Ivy is 13 and a half. It’s not fair that dogs live such short lives. I so badly want to keep her here. My heart is breaking as I watch her struggle this past week—clearly in pain.
Oh, Ivy. You’ll always have my heart. You are, and always will be, my biggest hero. I’m so sorry you’re hurting—I can see it in your eyes. I know how frustrated you are that you can’t get up anymore, that you can’t press your head into Dad’s hand for your favourite head rubs. I love you, Ivy. I will be forever grateful for everything you gave Cayleb—for everything you gave all of us. Even Cinnamon, who doesn’t like anyone, will miss you.
When I told a friend we had to say goodbye, he said, “We don’t deserve dogs.”
He’s right. We truly didn’t deserve you.
One of my favourite Ivy stories happened during an RV trip to the Bay of Fundy. While we were visiting at low tide, Ivy somehow managed to sneak out unnoticed—and made a break for the muck that would usually be at the bottom of the ocean. She was absolutely thrilled with herself, proudly trotting back to me when called, reeking of rotten fish and radiating joy. Ivy, however, was not as pleased with the six baths that followed. Nor was she a fan of being tied up outside the camper at every remaining campsite while the rest of us ate dinner inside.
