Leah Ruth Moser

Leah Ruth Moser, 55, of Chicago's Roscoe Village neighborhood, born and raised in Alberta, Canada, unexpectedly passed away on December 2, 2025. Beloved daughter of Margie (the late Paul). Adored sister of Tommy (Valerie) and John. Cherished aunt and friend to many.

She was also a graduate of Baldwin Wallace University. She was married once. And divorced the same number of times. She attended law school for a year and spent most of her working life in executive search, which is just a way a saying she found other people better jobs. Ironic, yes, in that she never seemed to love her own career, despite being exceptionally good at it. 

Those are the most basic facts of Leah Moser's 55 years of life. If you need a 'why' to explain her passing, it was a combination of several factors. She suffered from severe bouts of depression and self-medicated with alcohol and other chemicals. Mostly legal ones. She was stricken with a debilitating physical disease that was progressively robbing her of the ability to do some of the things she loved best. She had fallen into a financial hole that she refused to be honest about with the people who would have given anything to pull her out.

But if you ever caught a glimpse of Leah, you'd immediately see she was physically stunning. If you had the chance to chat with Leah, you'd quickly find she was intellectually a match for anyone. And if you were lucky to be one of the few people on this planet she opened up to, you'd be subject to a kindness you could barely believe was real. Unfortunately, the world is not structured to reward the kind of kindness Leah practiced. Because if karma were real, Leah would have passed with incalculable wealth bested only by the unbounded love a small squad of rescue dogs can heap up on a person.

Leah started two successful business, and the destruction of both can be traced directly back to the dunderheaded policies enacted by the very folks that claim to be champions of such entrepreneurial spirit.

She loved books, Beethoven, and Arsenal FC. She thrived in winter, played in the snow, skated on the ice. She devoured poetry and a good dessert as long as it was accompanied by a warming sip of whiskey and a glowing fire. She was stylish but never ostentatious. She barely had a sense of what being on time might mean. She would make you promise multiple times you wouldn't laugh at her before she asked you what she thought you'd think was a dumb question. She survived some horrors she tried to keep secret. And even in her darker moment when she'd say she hated people, she never stopped adoring individuals. The simple kinesthetic joy of running probably extended her life for a while.

Leah rescued three dogs. The first, Sammy also probably saved her life for a while—just having something dependent on you for survival makes it hard for anyone to check out of this world. Sammy was quickly given a playmate in Tobey and, for the next decade, the duo colored her life with a mischievous joy that it sorely lacked. Leah would often joke that the ghost of Sammy was haunting her but, if there is a dog afterlife, Sammy and Tobey would have almost certainly occupied themselves instead by erecting a statue of her likeness with a plaque reading no more than 'This is the best human ever.'

But the story of Leah Moser is maybe best told through that of her third dog, Bellow. Bellow was found alone and emaciated wandering the woods in the far north suburbs of Chicago. No tags, no chip, no written medical history, no oral life history. Nothing. The rescue organization probably fudged on estimating his age to give him a chance on another life. They said he was 7; it was probably over 10. No normal person was going to rescue that poor animal. But Leah saw the pics the shelter had posted online, then sent a friend an email saying, "I think I found my next dog."

Working backwards from limited info—the dog had been trained and was housebroken, and most of its longer term ailments were simply from neglect or inactivity but not abuse—Leah inferred Bellow had been the pet of an older person who had limited physical capacity (specifically, going on walks), then, after his or her passing, the next of kin probably just abandoned the poor, unwanted creature—driven it out past the houses and just left it there. The backstory doesn't need verification to know that is exactly the kind of animal who would somehow find its way to Leah.

Bellow's ailments slowly revealed themselves to Leah—some severe dental issues, then liver problems, then degenerative arthritis. And she dutifully found care for the dog. A couple of years into their partnership, Bellow had a prolonged seizure and was never really quite the same. But she continued to love and care for Bellow until his quality of life had all but been exhausted. Leah unfairly tortured herself into thinking she had failed Bellow somehow, which is a ridiculous proposition on its face. But what she failed to appreciate was what the dog himself was telling her every time they went for a walk. For when they walked, Bellow could not take but three steps before craning his head to make sure Leah was still there on the other end of the leash. This is no exaggeration.

A dog that, for a while, had to suffer the worst callousness of humans and was forced to survive in ways it hadn't been equipped to was somehow also lucky enough to be found by one of the few people who not only knew how much the abandoned were deserving of affection and care but also practiced it. And that dog would literally not go even three steps without having to do the canine equivalent of pinching itself to make sure it was still real. Take three steps. "Okay, good, she's still there." Take three steps. "Just making sure again." Take three steps. "Nice lady who rescued me still there? Check!" Every three steps. Every walk. Every day. Bellow saw in Leah what she failed to see in herself: the living beings that found themselves attached to her not only recognized how kindness was just woven into the fabric of her being but also wanted to make sure they never went without it.

In a world that increasingly glorifies and rewards the worst aspects of us, Leah was a constant reminder that love lives in those acts of grace and kindness.

To say she will be missed doesn't capture the loss.