Brendan Carroll 🇵🇸🇮🇪🇨🇩🇸🇩

Hammer Carroll, February 22, 2009–January 24, 2026

It has taken me several days to write this post. Hammer, my firstborn, my heart dog, my soul dog, my baby, my girl, my dog, crossed over the rainbow on January 24. I grew up with dogs my entire life–Nell, Ginger, Sandy, Bandit, Philly, Banjo–but they were family dogs, my mom’s dogs. Hammer was the first dog I adopted with my ex-wife Marie. I was responsible for her. She was my whole world, the center of my universe, my home, my pack. She gave me meaning. Taught me unconditional love, loyalty, and presence.

I pray Hammer is across the rainbow bridge, free from pain and suffering, free from the cencerous tumor wrapped around her heart, free from the shortness of breath and cough, that she’s at Fort Tilden beach, the sand between her paws, the wide blue sky overhead, the wind blowing through her ears, the waves crashing ashore, running running running, legs stretched, unbound, leash-free, nose to the ground, sniffing, sniffing sniffing, catching a scent, going on sniffari, doing zoomies, beagling in the sun, with her dog momma and siblings and pups, that she’s finally at rest now, and hopefully, waiting for me on the other side because if there is a heaven, I only wanna go if Hammer is there, if all my dogs are there.

Hammer had a great run. Seventeen years! Marie and Hammer and I traveled around the U.S. in 2017: 39 states, 11,000 miles, two months on the road living out of a camper van. If Hammer had lived four more weeks, she would have made it to her 17th birthday. She was a born fighter. She had three owners before she found her forever home. Marie said she had her appetite up until the end. My only regret: I was not there to see her cross over. She was in too much distress, too much pain, and I was in NJ. I never got a chance to say goodbye, to look into her eyes, hold her paws, and reassure her, comfort her like all the times her mere presence kept me from jumping off the ledge. She was such a great big sis to Clover, the wild child, a dog’s dog. I pray Clovey and Marie find solace in their grief. The world is a bit colder, harsher, rougher, without my Hammy.

(Continued in comments)

#petloss