My Heartfelt Condolences to the Budzyn Family as They Grieve Tucker’s Passing

Yesterday I spent a long time crying over a dog I’ve never met, writing a condolence letter to a dog mom I’ve also never met. Neither of those things is breaking news, considering my website is called Dog Obsessed World. But I still felt compelled to share some thoughts.

If you’re on social media and love dogs, chances are you’ve come across Tucker Budzyn — the Golden Retriever whose mom “Linda” has been sharing his adventures since he was a tiny puppy. He has around 20 million followers across platforms, and his videos of eating “chimken,” confronting the “tree of doom” (broccoli), “roobing” on the walls, welcoming his son Todd, and swimming with pure joy have delighted dog lovers all over the world.

Last week, his mom announced that he had lymphoma but was responding well to treatment and living a full life. She truly believed he was on track for a full recovery. So we were all shocked when yesterday she posted a video sharing that Tucker had a medical emergency on Wednesday, September 2, and passed away.

The video she shared was raw and as from‑the‑heart as anything I’ve ever seen. Her first words were an apology to his fans. She said she felt like part of her soul had died with him, like she had lost a body part, like she didn’t know how to go on — even though she needed to take care of Todd.

When you follow as many dogs on social media as I do, you know that one day they’re going to cross the Rainbow Bridge. A black Lab I followed just passed away, and that one was hard because she could have been my Tinkerbell’s twin. My husband follows a Golden Retriever who is battling cancer and keeps encouraging me to follow him too, but I keep saying I cannot get invested in a dog who already has a scary diagnosis. And even though I’ve been extremely sad for all of these dogs and the humans who love them, Tucker’s mom’s video hit me the hardest.

As dog lovers, we post when our dogs go to the Rainbow Bridge, but we rarely show the depth and rawness of emotion that Courtney did. We know what our own experiences are like — the feeling she named so perfectly: that part of your soul has died, that something essential is missing, that you aren’t sure how to go on. We know what it’s like to get out of bed only because your other dogs need you. We know what it’s like to hide the rawness of your grief so your surviving dogs don’t absorb your despair. We know what it’s like to have an integral part of your daily routine suddenly gone.

But we rarely see it so clearly when someone else goes through it. We see their posts, we see that they’re heartbroken, everyone sends condolences, and we remember how awful it is to lose a dog. But we don’t see the raw pain — the part that lives underneath the words, the part we usually hide from the world.

I’m sure there are people who prefer to keep things private who might question whether she “should” have shared such an emotional, unfiltered post. My guess is that what she shared was filtered. She waited three days, until she had his ashes in her hands. I can only imagine her pain on the day he actually passed. I remember the agonizing scream that came out of me after Jax died on the way to the ER vet — after the vet confirmed he was truly gone and he could no longer feel my energy. Only then could I release the agony I had been holding inside.

Tucker Budzyn changed the world by giving humans so much joy. Social media can be a toxic, nasty place, especially when people cannot help themselves from sharing polarizing topics and belittling people they call friends. They tell us to scroll past the things we don’t like, and we do. And what stops the scroll — as they say in social media marketing — is the fluffiest, silliest Golden Retriever with his big boy jowls, feather duster tail, goofy skits about farts and broccoli, and his love of the swimming pool.

But the one who truly changed the world was his mom — the person behind the videos, behind the storytelling, behind the joy. And her video announcing the end of his life — but certainly not the end of his legacy — has the power to help all of us dog owners feel seen in our own grief. To know that questioning whether we did the right thing or could have done more is normal, but also a criticism we don’t need to place on ourselves.

I still wish I could give her the biggest, non‑creepy hug — dog mom to dog mom. I wish I could tell her that there is no universe in which she failed Tucker, Todd, or his fans. That she did everything any loving dog owner would do. That the last days she described were the perfect way for a dog to live out the end of his life. I wish I could tell her that Tucker will send her a special dog — not to replace him, but to take over his watch as her best friend and to keep Todd company. Just like my Jackson sent Quill, and like Tinkerbell is working on finding us a new girl to love when the time is right.