Ben Moon - Denali: A Man, a Dog, and the Friendship of a Lifetime

And when someone you love walks in through the door, even if it happens five times a day, go totally insane with joy.

DAVID DUDLEY

If you decide against this procedure, Ben, the recurrence rate for your tumor will be 50 percent or greater.

Dr. Ahmads words echoed uncomfortably in my mind as I pointed my van westward through Portlands rush-hour traffic toward the coast. Id come to him for a second opinion but received precisely the worst-case news Id feared. And now, I needed to get to the oceanup and over the coast range and away from the summer heat and the claustrophobia I always feel in citiesto wash off the surreal grime of it all. Only a body of water as immense as the Pacific Ocean would be powerful enough for the job.

Riding beside me was my beloved Denali, a handsome husky and pit bull mix who had been my constant companion for the past four and a half years. He had entered my life as an eight-week-old pup, finding me at a time when I felt ill-equipped to raise a puppy, yet fate saw that I needed his support and companionship more than anything. I had no idea how much I would lean on him through the trials that followed.

Almost exactly a year after bringing him home, my wife, Melanie, left me for another man and shattered my notions of the future. I was twenty-five years old and had little idea of what I was supposed to do with my life. Denali became the only friend with whom I could fully express my grief. He put up with my many tears and countless hugs, and as I struggled to make sense of this new reality, we became as inseparable as two souls can be.

When it became obvious that Melanie wasnt coming back, I packed up my belongings and, with Denali riding shotgun, set off to begin a job working for a climbing gear manufacturer located in the high-desert recreational town of Bend, Oregon. I sewed a bed for the back of my Subaru wagon utilizing fabric and foam for manufacturing bouldering crash pads (fold-up pads that can be carried to shorter climbs that do not require ropes and placed at the base to cushion falls), and Denali and I lived in the vehicle full time for nearly a year as I began a new career as an outdoor adventure photographer. Denali was the perfect roommate, burrowing underneath the covers when ice formed inside the windows. He would tuck in beside me, sharing warmth and love that slowly began to heal my crushed heart. Denali was never upset as I mused endlessly over the mysteries of women and heartache. Science now tells us that connecting with a dog lowers our cortisol while releasing oxytocin. Denalis nurturing devotion and its effects on me were a powerful testament to that.

I had been diagnosed with stage III colorectal cancer, a disease seldom associated with a twenty-nine-year-old. My visit to the gastrointestinal surgeon was for a second opinion about which procedure was appropriate to remove the cancerous mass. He was certain that removing my rectum and anus was necessary to ensure the proper healthy tissue margins and reduce the tumors chances of recurring. Which meant, he said, that I would need a permanent colostomy. The idea of shitting into a plastic bag for the rest of my life was hard to fathom, especially considering my lifestyle revolved around rock climbing, surfing, and photographing high-level athletes in their element. I tensely awaited his recommendation, barely able to breathe as I prayed that he would tell me the colostomy was unnecessary.

The gravity of coming face-to-face with my mortality had knocked me way off center, and I suddenly found myself far from the rhythms of traveling between the climbing crags and surf breaks of the American west, photographing a tribe of like-minded people who valued a life of adventure over the creature comforts of a steady salary and a mortgage. In many ways, living on the road was easy, due to its lack of complexity. But the creative path has its own set of challenges, and I struggled mightily to make ends meet when first committing to go all-in on photography as my sole income. Even though a novices freelance income was barely enough to fill the food bin in my van, the benefits of waking up far from the din of civilization in a place of my choosing and allowing the cycles of the sun and weather to dictate the activities of each day had its rewards. Chasing the magic hours of light and finding the perfect frame often brought me to places of breathtaking beauty and introduced lifelong friendships. This, and my life with Denali, became everything to me until cancer leaped out of the dark and grabbed me by the throat.