This post is all above love, because if those of us in the U.S. ever needed to focus on it now, it’s this week. I’m channeling love all I can this week. Love of my smart, soccer-focused, flannel-wearing, literal-minded, outdoor-loving, perfect-eyebrowed, kindest-man-ever husband. Love of my funny, irreverent and always-there-when-you-need them friends and family. Love of flowers, in all their impermanent beauty. Love of my fantasy of making Beef Wellington someday. Love of Portmeirion’s Botanic Garden china, especially my teacup with Lathyrus Odoratus (Sweet Pea) painted on it. And of course, of course. My love of dogs.
I’ve written extensively about my love of dogs–our love of dogs–and their love for us. Here’s a passage about Luke from the Afterward in The Other End of the Leash, about love and connection and never knowing what is truly in another’s mind:
He placed the damp, sandy thing in my hand as if it were a precious egg. He’d never done that before and has never done it since. “Keep away” is his favorite game, and although he reliably drops his toys to a quiet word, you can tell that it goes against his nature. Luke hogs the ball every second that he can, and had to learn not to mug Pip if she should get it first. But this time, he eased the object into my hands with a kind of serious nobility and then backed up and sat quietly before me. At first I didn’t even know what it was, just wet handful of brown. Gradually I began to distinguish tiny paws and a tail. My hands held a half-drowned chipmunk, chest pumping with shallow breaths, eyes screwed shut, tiny paws clenched. It had just rained five inches in twelve hours. There was white water in my front yard, a roaring waterfall by the garage. The chipmunk must have gotten caught in the flooding that overtook the farm in the drama of a summer thunderstorm.
Chipmunks are generally bad guests on Wisconsin farms, chewing holes in sacks of grain and nesting in boxes of old photographs in the attic. But this gasping little mammal found her way into my heart, so I cleaned her off and warmed her up. In half an hour she was warm and dry and not at all pleased to be in a box on my kitchen counter. Luke and I watched her skitter across the garage when I let her out.
I will never know why Luke picked her up and handed her to me, ever so gently. He was not being predatory, nor was he being playful. You can’t miss his intense play-stalk when we play ball: his head and tail drop while he crouches in anticipation of the chase. But this time he didn’t look playful or predatory. He was quiet and serious, but soft-eyed, moving as if he was in slow motion. What was he thinking when he eased her into his jaws and presented her to me like a newborn baby at a hospital? Was he saving her life?
You already know that Luke is one of my best friends. After a hard morning loading sheep onto the truck, Luke and I sit together with a closeness born of hard work, mutual respect, and some undefinable connection that he and I have always had. But I’ll never know what was on his mind when he picked up that soggy chipmunk. It’s just not the kind of thing that dogs and humans can discuss.
Here’s a passage, also about Luke, from For the Love of a Dog, the book that compares emotions in people and dogs. It’s from Chapter 8, “Love Story.”
“In 1992, I fell in love with a dog named Luke. I brought him home from a herding dog trial in Minnesota one chilly, October evening, not sure if I’d keep him, not sure I wanted another dog. A gangly adolescent, Luke had been a disappointment to his first owner, who reported he wouldn’t come when called and had failed his first herding lessons. I’d had my eye on him ever since he was a pup, and had told the owner to let me know if she ever decided to sell him. When he came up for sale I had more dogs than I needed, but every time I saw Luke something clicked inside, as if I’d finally found the combination to an old padlock I carried around, unopened. I took one last look at his bright, expectant face, wrote out a check, and drove him home through the red and orange hills of a midwestern autumn.
By sundown of the next day, Luke and I had fallen in love. I don’t know any other way to describe it. I say “fallen in love” with the knowledge that eyes will roll, lips will purse and heads will shake. “That’s pathetic,” someone said to me once when I described my love for Luke. It seems that people either get it or not; like the yes-no simplicity of digital computers, the world sorts into people who’ve been deeply moved by a dog, or people who can take them or leave them. I learned to censor myself, to test the waters before volunteering some platitude like, “Yep, he’s a great dog, Luke,” instead of a deeper, more complex attempt to express how much I loved him.
I am buoyed by the knowledge that I am not alone. People come up to me at seminars, eyes full and bright with the beginnings of tears, and tell me they had a dog like Luke, “forever dogs” we call them, the canine loves of our life, dogs who expand our hearts and fill our souls in a way that nothing else ever had. Old Yeller was a book about a dog like that, a plain yellow dog who settled in the soul of a young country boy, and served as a cultural icon of the depth of devotion we can have for a dog.”
And here I am, lucky me, equally gobsmacked in love with Maggie and Skip, as I was with Luke and Lassie and Willie and Tulip and Bo Peep and Pippy Tay. I am astounded at how lucky I have been–to have such good dogs, such special dogs, dogs who deserve entire books written about them. Dogs like Willie. Here’s about Willie, from The Education of Will:
But there was something else—something that I hadn’t allowed myself to talk about. I was just as jumpy as Willie. While his reactivity set me off, I knew that my own startle response did the same to him. We were living in a vicious circle, each making the other worse. In my heart, I knew that in spite of my professional expertise, my own problems meant I wasn’t the ideal owner for Willie.
Heartsick, I leashed Willie, and we went out the door to the car. I put him in a sit/stay behind the car while I hauled the heavy ramp from the backseat and placed it so that he could climb in without jumping and re-injuring his shoulder. It was hard for Willie to sit and stay while I lugged the ramp around. When I turned to Willie to release him, he sat big-eyed and trembling, almost overwhelmed by the energy it took to make himself obey and control his almost-out-of-control impulses. His face was desperate with the need to leap forward—to move move move, oh-please-I-have-to-move—countered by his desire to be a very good dog, the very best dog anyone could ever have.
That was when it hit me: I knew Willie like I knew myself. I knew what it was like to fight the demons inside and still want so badly to be good. To be so fearful that the slightest noise blows you off the ground as if a bomb has gone off under your feet. I knew what it was like to be happy and friendly on the outside and yet spend much of your life in fear.
I looked at his imploring face, and my heart opened up so wide and fast that my knees went weak. As I released Willie from his stay and he climbed into the car, I knew that I could never send him away. I sat beside him while he licked the tears off my cheeks, and I whispered, “I will, I will, I will, Willie, I will move heaven and earth to try to help us both.”
Tell us your love story. I will cherish every one, curled up on the couch with Skip at my feet and Maggie’s head on my lap, sipping Earl Grey tea from my cup, the one with Sweet Peas on it.
MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Dogs and Hats to make us smile.
Tell us your love story. Smile at your dog. Buy a new hat. Find something good to focus on and savor it. We’ll get through this.
Sarah says
Patricia, if you’ve ever heard “She’s Got a Way” by Billy Joel, that’s how I feel about my dog. I always think about her when I hear it.
“She’s got a way about her
I don’t know what it is
But I know that I can’t live without her.”
I don’t know how to sum up everything she has given me in a sentence or a paragraph, but those are some words that speak to me.
Rebecca Owens says
I lost a heart-dog, a yellow Labrador, to osteosarcoma May 12, 2015. It also happened to be my birthday. How ironic, Lark’s death day on my birthday. She was 14 years, 3 months old. She had just sailed through upper left caudal lobe cancer surgery in January and had almost 3 months where she once again acted 4 years or so younger. Her initial lung films were clean. Then, she began limping. I hoped it was her arthritis in that left elbow, but I had a cold, niggling, feeling in my stomach. I’m seldom wrong when it comes to my animal family.
At first, the biopsy came back negative. No obvious star-burst pattern. But the lump on her foreleg kept growing. Her kind surgeon from January asked to see her based on a consult from her acupuncture vet. He sat on the floor with me and said, “I’m so very sorry.” At over 14 I said, No amputation. So, I was already saying good-bye. We did palliative radiation (not very successful in controlling pain), acupuncture, pain meds. About 2 weeks before her death she began refusing her meds. She ate to please me, but not much. Finally, I asked to see a new x-ray of her leg. She had 2 fractures. I said, “no more.”
The last 2 weeks, whenever I took her outside (she never became incontinent) and she settled in the backyard shade, the other 2 dogs and 3 cats would drift out and ring her. She became the center of their circle time and time again.
My loving, warm, acupuncture vet came to the house and euthanized her lying in her bed. The last afternoon I lay on the floor nose to nose with her. She would open her eyes occasionally, and thump her tail, but her eyes were very far away.
When her heart stopped, the other two dogs instantly surged to her body and began sniffing. After holding her and crying for 10 or so minutes, my vet asked if I was ready for him to take her. I said yes. He began wrapping her body and True and Magi raced to her body again. We backed away and let them have their last time.
She now resides in a wooden box along side the ashes of her sister, Raven, another yellow Lab, Max, a black Lab, Mercy, a small white cat, Angel, and a calico cat, Callaway. I cannot breathe when I think of her, so I’m not done letting her go.
Since her death in 2015, I’ve lost three cats – Clancy, Summer, and Jessy – and Lark’s niece, a small black Lab, True, in 2019 at the age of 15. All hard losses. I still have Magi and Paden, two rescue dogs, and have gained two Maine Coons, Merlin and Piper, and a goofy, funny chocolate Lab male River. Losses and gains. Such is life.
Thank you for reading this.
April Pilz says
I just lost the love of my life in September when my dog Dingo died from heart failure. I knew from the moment I met her at our local shelter that we were meant for each other. She was the first dog in my life that was just mine, not the family dog. I didn’t know at the time how lucky I was to get such a great dog the first time around. She helped me welcome many more in the 13 years we spent together, as dogs we kept or dogs we had in foster care. And when I say “we” I mean me and Dingo. She made “me” into a “we.” She was my family, my partner, my best friend. She was my once-in-lifetime. She made me the luckiest human.
Patsy Bansley says
Patricia,
I met you years ago when you came to my house to help me with one of my poodles who had a possession problem! He eventually gave it up through the plan you set up for us! I also had a long emotional talk with you one day on the phone as I had to rehome one of my dogs and I was very worried my other dog was depressed. Your wise words helped me so much.
I still keep a copy of one of your articles “The good dog Drift died today….” Still brings me to tears it is such a beautiful tribute…..your animals are lucky to have you! Thank you for all the help to us loving critter owners.
Peggy Michaelis says
Hi Patricia, I have been so fortunate to live with some very wonderful dogs. They have all had some very special, memorable traits. My first dog as an adult, Tabitha, a black lab’collie mix who, 50 years ago, became the best nanny every for my toddler daughters, Misty my Irish Setter/Black Lab mix who stole a neighbor’s grilled chicken and was so proud to bring it home to me. But when I met Neika, a Corgi abandoned puppy, my world truly changed. This sweet puppy had to be bottled fed for a bit. My cat, Darby, would sit on the arm of the chair and lick Neika’s head and ears while she fed. This was the beginning of a 11 year love affair between Darby & Neika. Neika was a fierce Chipmunk hunter, a neighborhood watch dog who turned our entire block into her home territory. Seven years later when Corgi, Queen Bodecea, joined us, Neika immediately became her “mother” teaching her how to become a true Corgi. Neika, Darby and Bodecea became the terrific trio. Darby cat was the leader, Neika instigated the adventures and Bodecea was the point person. Queen Bodecea was a true royal – beautiful, confident, loyal, controlling in true Corgi fashion and oh so loving. Darby died from cancer at the ripe old age of 20, but 3 days later her “baby” Neika died from a stroke at age 11. Neika had been with Darby nearly every minute of her life, they slept together, they ate together and created mischief together, I guess Neika just couldn’t live without her. A few months later I met a puppy from a puppy mill transport from South Carolina. I didn’t know what breed/s she was but I knew that the minute I picked her up she snuggled into my neck and licked behind my ear just like Neika had done. I was smitten. At 5 week old, Glory/GloryLua joined our pack. Bodecea immediately became Glory’s Mom and worked very hard to help her learn the rules and the right way to do things. Glory was the hardest puppy I’ve ever lived with. Even Bodecea would get frustrated but she turned her frustration toward me, barking and pulling my pant leg until I saw Glory’s latest travesty. Queen Bodecea and I were an amazing team. She protected me, she nurtured me, she had fun with me, even when she was upset with me because I wouldn’t let her swim across Lake Monona. That was her life’s goal. I was so bonded with Bodecea that as she aged I was in complete denial that she may leave me sooner than later. Even now it’s very hard to write about her without crying. She died on June 5, 2020 at age 15 years, 8 months. Hers was truly a life well lived. Thank goodness for Glory. We have had to work very hard over the years to help Glory recover from her Doggy PTSD and health issues from her hard beginning. Years of obedience classes, which really helped train me, doggy day care and nutritional counseling have led to an amazing, beautiful high energy dog that I love so much. She was so lost when Bodecea died and that has brought us even closer. Glory is now a 12 year old, Basenji Hound/Carolina Dog mix who is helping us create a life after Queen Bodecea which is fun and fulfilling. To paraphrase George Orwell – All animals are created equal, some are more equal than others. My soul dogs, Neika and Queen Bodecea, were exceptionally special to me but all of my dogs have taught me unique lessons about love, patience and acceptance.
Nana911 says
The year was 2003. My twin girls, the last to fly the nest, were freshman in college. Our previous dog, Snowball, (American Eskimo) had died in my arms after suffering a seizure. I was beside myself, as I had no dog or children to keep me busy. Before Snowball left us, we had put a deposit down on a West Highland White Terrier and were anxiously waiting for her to be ready to leave her mom and her breeder. Enter Abby. This little girl came into our lives to free me from my misery. Before I knew it, I was totally smitten! We watched as her floppy ears, normal for Westie puppies, popped up into the biggest ears we’d ever seen! We laughed at the fact that one ear would flop back over when she was nervous. While still a puppy, she would crawl up in my lap to watch The Animal Planet, which always put both of us to sleep. My husband announced one day, “I think you’re having too much fun with her! I NEED A DOG!” As much as I argued, I knew that he would follow through. The next thing I knew, he brought home a chubby little Springer Spaniel puppy, who he named, “Moose.” Oh, I didn’t want to like that boy. We’d never had more than one dog at a time, so why did we have to have TWO now? Within a month, I fell in love with ole’ Moose. He and Abby, only 3 months apart in age, were perfect siblings. They got along like peanut butter and jelly, and they had not ONE argument! We had many years being entertained by them. (I used to call Moose our “Court Jester!” I have so many pictures of the two of them snuggling on the couch. Pictures of Abby looking at the camera, perfecting her “Head Tilt.” Pictures of Moose on the deck, sitting in on the grill or in a chair, waiting to be “served” at the patio table. All too soon, they were geriatric dogs. Moose developed a knot on his head which turned out to be an osteosarcoma. We had to put him down at the age of ten after a major seizure. Then Abby became sick, and we could never determine what was wrong. We finally made the decision to let her go, because we knew she was in so much pain. Abby, my “Heart Puppy,” was gone. I was devastated. I have since referred to the Abby and Moose days as our Golden Age of Dogs. They were the absolute BEST, and I miss them so much. We have slowly moved on, with a Cavalier King Charles and most recently, another Westie. But as much as we love them, there will never be another Golden Age era in our lives.
Sharon Shea says
Your writings are so relative. You put feelings about pets into words like none other!
Peggy DeRosa says
My girl is 13 years old and everything you said about Luke I can relate to. I can not imagine a day without my girl even though I know it will
happen. The previous comment is also how I feel about my girl and Billy Joel is one of my favorite perform and I never thought about You’ve got away about you..days it all
Barbara says
My dog is the one bright spot in every day. With Rocky at my side I know I’m not alone and it’s never the end of the world – no matter how crazy or bad life seems out there. What will I do when this little thief of hearts time is up? I guess find another dog and hopefully fall in love all over again. Hope (and love) springs eternal.
Amanda Thorstad says
What a beautiful post, and wonderful tributes do your dogs! Thank you for adding some love into the world – especially this week.
I currently share my life with Leo, a 4-year old border/aussie/heeler mix. He is my first “grown-up” dog, previous dogs I’ve had being ones my family adopted when I was a kid. I had wanted a dog for 10 years and finally have my life in a place where I can have one. I found him at a local shelter and he came home with me on Valentine’s Day last year – truly the best Valentine a gal could ever have.
Gosh, we’ve had our trials and tribulations, and somewhere along the way learned that we can’t be apart (he hates being left home alone!). That in and of itself has pushed me to all sorts of limits – the creativity of “actually, he could probably come with” and rerouting my daily life accordingly, and the frustration for both of us of “sometimes you have to stay home buddy,” and developing a beautiful community of neighbors and dog sitters who can take him in when I need to be away for longer periods of time. Leo has both opened up my world and drawn it in closer, which I’ve learned to embrace as a route to personal growth.
Leo is the best wingman – with his sparkling, intense blue eyes + a sheer love of all humans, he is a powerful magnet (and I think he knows he’s handsome, lol, always using that to draw strangers to him), and will sometimes stop and refuse to move forward until he gets to greet someone walking by. I adopted him shortly after moving to a new town and it’s because of his insistence to say hello that I have met some very lovely human friends who are now an important part of my life.
Beyond that, he’s a devoted cuddle bug and a fun adventure buddy. I can’t imagine what my life would be like – especially during the pandemic – if I didn’t have a live-in personal trainer (ha!) insisting we go outside every few hours for a walk and a daily swim in the local river. What a boon to my sanity. Love him to pieces.
Alex Speers says
Thank you for your words, always. Reading your blog always makes me smile, even if sometimes it also makes me cry.
Today I’m crying, but out of happiness. My baby dog, Fennel, the sweetest silliest loudest most good-hearted boy that sleeps with his head on my arm or shoulder every night, was diagnosed with subcutaneous hemangiosarcoma (blood cancer) just after he turned one last spring. After a summer of surgeries and chemotherapy, last week he had his last treatment and a repeat CT scan turned up CLEAN. He’s going to live!! He’s going to live. Today I made an appointment at our primary vet to get his delayed vaccines, because he’s going to live so he needs vaccination.
Give me your wishes, because God or the universe or the incredible mystery of life is smiling on us right now. I’ll put in for more miracles.
Carol Burpeau says
Hi-I am sure you will be reading some great stories on the theme of “For the love of a dog”. Our pets really do steal our hearts!
When I was 49, I adopted my first dog. She was 7 years old and had been surrendered by her elderly owner who could no longer care for her. She was terribly sad to be at the shelter. I took a chance on her as I wanted an older dog and a note on her cage said she played ball. Her name was Ivy and we embarked on a wonderful journey together. She was my ever steady adventure buddy! She was up for any fun I thought we could enjoy together-dock diving contests, swimming in the ocean, dog surfing contests, playing ball (of course!) and long walks around the neighborhood. She wasn’t a cuddler and that was okay with me because she had an infectious enthusiasm to go outside. Ivy’s spirit helped pull me through the dark days of two breast cancer diagnosis’s. I was so grateful for the wonder of this senior adopted dog that I made a short film about our life and entered it in a local pet film festival. My dream was to walk the red carpet with Ivy; sadly my sweet Ivy passed before the premiere of the film. The creative process of making the film really helped me overcome my grief on losing her. My film entitled “Always in my heart” won Best Documentary at the 2019 Miami Canine Film Festival.
MinnesotaMary says
There are so many love stories in my life. I have fostered over 60 dogs, mostly huskies, and have fallen in love with a number of them. My very best and deepest love, however, was my own second dog. I had gotten into dog ownership late in life- I was in my 40s. My sweet Hazel was my very first dog and I loved her to the ends of the earth. I adopted her from a local rescue after meeting her at an adoption event. After she had been with me for almost a year, I decided it was time to welcome a second dog into my house. Mostly because Hazel could use companionship during the day while I was at work. So we went looking. My only criteria was that Hazel wanted to be with this dog. We met dog after dog. Some rescues brought their dogs to my house to meet her and we went to other foster homes. She turned her pretty nose up at each dog. There were nearly 10 that she didn’t want anything to do with until she met this young husky. It was love at first sight (for her). Not so much for me. He was about the ugliest dog I had seen in a long time. At age 9 months, he had been picked up by animal control, wandering around on the streets and killing rabbits to stay alive. He was skinny and had a huge head. The rescue had a name for him, but they continually referred to him as “that melon headed dog”. Hazel was in love. I reluctantly took him home for the weekend for a test. Needless to say, he never left. He grew into his large head and became the most amazing dog. One year I had surgery on my foot. This young dog, whose best trick was to stand in the middle of the room and launch himself over the coffee table to land on top of me, just to hear me go “oooof”, walked up to me and sniffed my foot. He calmly walked around the coffee table and climbed on the couch, taking care not to step on my, snuggled between the back of the couch and me, then gently licked my cheek. He knew I was in pain. I knew he was something special. That prompted me to look into therapy dog registration. I never took any classes with that dog, but I did look up what the therapy dog evaluation consisted of. We worked on a couple of things, took the evaluation and passed it on the first attempt. We then started volunteering with a local hospice. Almost every weekend for seven years, we shared our love with people who were dying. Many had dementia. Most loved him, but there were a few that fell almost as hard as I did for him. Rizzo died in July of 2019, and I still can’t believe he’s gone. I’m still trying to figure out who I am without him. He was the most important love of my life, and he shared his amazing heart with hundreds of people. To this day, many people only know me as “Rizzo’s mom”.
Denise says
I claim our BC boy Chip was our meant-to -be dog. After losing our girl Jewel at 12 to cancer in Sept 2009 we said we would wait a year before getting another dog. But then in November my dear mother-in-law passed away. We decided we “needed” a dog and a few weeks later brought Chip into our home. I have always said he saved us,bringing joy back into our lives as only a dog can do. At the age of 6 he herniated a disc in his back and became paralyzed in the rear end but we have done what we can and he continues to bring us great pleasure,with daily outings in his doggie wheel- chair and as much normal as we can for him. We were surely meant to be.
Lynn Ungar says
Thank you, Trisha—so beautifully expressed! As I read this in bed on my phone, Tesla has his head curled into my shoulder in the sweetest possible position, and Piper, the Queen of All Wombats, is by my feet. And what comes to mind is that horribly done scene from whatever stupid romcom movie it was years ago: “You complete me.” We are a pack of three , Piper, Tesla and I. They make me whole.
Laura says
Such beautiful stories so far, and Tricia, yours still bring tears to my eyes. As for me, it’s coming, I know it’s coming. Seamus is 10/2 now, and his face is getting more snowy. He has little, very movable fatty lumps on his fuzzy tummy. I’m not concerned about them, and yet, I am. After finding the huge, immobile lump in Marlin’s neck which signaled his death, I’m gun shy. Still, he seems happy, healthy, and not at all sick. He still loves to work, and yet, I know it’s coming, this eventual retirement when he won’t be my partner anymore, and I know it is really going to hurt. I get to keep him, and I’m so happy about that, but it won’t be the same. I never thought I’d have room in my heart after I had to suddenly retire Marlin at the unfair age of five, but I have actually grown to love Seamus so much, that, when people ask, he has been my favorite guide dog to work with over my eighteen years with them. He is the most laid back dog I’ve ever met. He’s happy to do whatever I need him to, if that’s walking across campus to attend a meeting, or just hanging out at home, only occasionally working as we’ve been doing since March, he’s fine with it all. He’s stable and confident in his work, cautious when he needs to be, but not cautious out of fear. My first guide, Marlin, showed me what life with a service dog could be, and I’ll always love him for that, but Seamus embodies the line from Susannah Charleson’s book, The Possibility Dogs; “You’re ok, I’m ok, we’re ok together.” When I think of that, when I think of not having my Fuzzy Britches beside me anymore, in that moment I can’t take a deep breath, but I want to end this comment with hope. No, there will never be another Seamus, and that’s ok, because there will be another dog I get to work with and love, and I know, that just like there will never be another Marlin, there will never be another Seamus, and someday, there will never be another dog that I’ll love just as much for new, different reasons. I’ve loved all my dogs, from my calm, serious Marlin, on to my weird, loyal Torpedo, and on to my sweet, happy, steady Seamus. I know others will come along to help me, to literally guide me through life, and despite how sad this time is, part of me can’t wait to meet my new friend.
Beth says
We lost our beloved Corgi Jack this fall to nasal cancer. Three months from the time I thought he was breathing a little funny walking up a hill until the day we said goodbye. He was pulling at his leash to go for a walk until the minute the vet injected him with the sedative in the parking lot. He was so not ready to go, but the tumor was pushing his eyeball out of place from behind.
Here is what I wrote on Facebook:
I have been deeply touched by the amazing outpouring of support and sympathy as we deal with the loss of our Jack. Thank you for the thoughtful comments, messages, and cards; they mean so much to us both.
I’ve received comments that we gave him a good life, but he gave us his whole life. Jack threw himself, body and soul, into everything he did and the sparkle in his eyes and grin on his face repaid us a thousand fold. He aroo-rooed his delight for special treats and sometimes even breakfast. He chased his toys with such enthusiasm that he’d slide across the tiled floor and slam into the wall on purpose. We’d take him hiking and finish a trail, tired and content, only to have Jack pull eagerly to the next trailhead: “One more? One more?!?” He thought it was his duty to greet every friendly dog and every smiling person in his beloved park; I cannot count the times he dragged us to crash an outdoor gathering (or ROTC training). When I’d say “Jack, we’re not invited” he’d look at me as if to say “But everybody LOVES a Corgi”. Inevitably he’d end up with a small crowd and he’d shoot me a triumphant look to which I’d be forced to reply “You’re right, Jack: Everybody DOES love a Corgi”. He’d set out on a walk with a particular route in mind and if I tried to go a different way, he’d plant his stubborn little feet and sometimes even flip over on his back in protest.
He had his own mind, a lot of opinions and he always shared them; he was the most vocal dog I ever had with a repertoire of roos, barks, grunts and “Wookie noises” he used to communicate. And then of course those facial expressions!
He was Jack. No more, no less. And we are better for having known him.
Linda Freeman says
Your stories about Willie touch me so deeply. I had a heart-dog who also broke my heart.
My beautiful girl had terrible fear and anxiety issues. We worked with her for six years to the point of diminishing our social life at home and altering many things about our life . We did everything we could to try and help her. Sadly, she became worse over time rather than better. When she became unpredictable and untrustworthy with her own family members, we knew we had to make the decision to let her go. Rehoming was not an option as we could not in good conscience place her with anyone else. This was the hardest thing we’ve ever done; it’s been a year and we still cry often. Ironically it was one your articles that gave us the courage and confirmation to do the right thing.
I know that wherever she is, she is outside running and playing in the snow. She was the kindest, sweetest and most loving dog I’ve ever known. Unfortunately, her brain was just not right. I will never forget her and we will love her forever.
Lisa Volker says
In 2010 I was attacked by a pit bull while I was out walking. I wasn’t seriously injured, thank God, but I did develop a fear of going outside. After missing out on experiencing two autumns and winters (my favorite seasons) outdoors, I realized I had to do something. My beloved blue merle collie Mischief had passed away at the age of 12 in 2012. She had been arthritic for her last two years so I hadn’t needed to take her out for long walks. I didn’t think that I’d ever want another dog, but the psychic hole in the house was so large and I knew if I got another dog I’d be forced to go outside regularly. My husband and I knew we wanted another collie and we decided to get a puppy.
When we went to the breeder’s, she brought out the male puppies (I had decided that I wanted a tri-color male because he would be different enough from Mischief that I wouldn’t want to cry every time I looked at him.) As I knelt down to examine the puppies, who were gamboling and generally behaving the way puppies do, one of them broke away and walked over to me. He was so serious looking. He walked right up to me and put his right front paw on my arm. I’m sure you as an animal behaviorist would know what that really means, but I interpreted it as “Good Lord, here’s a woman who really needs some help.” We brought Macduff home that day.
Macduff absolutely worships my husband Dave, while his attitude towards me has always been that of a protector. I suspect he thinks he’s smarter than me, too. He is definitely the most serious dog I have ever had. He was very good at his obedience classes but he never learned to do any tricks because it was obvious that he felt such behavior was beneath him. Eighteen months after we got him, a twist of fate brought us another tri-color pup, Milo. Milo was born blind and Macduff became his protector, too. Milo’s sweet nature compliments Macduff’s no-nonsense attitude to life. In 2017 we began visiting nursing homes as part of a volunteer therapy dog organization, the Pet-a-Pet Club. Macduff would enter a resident’s room and inspect everything, including the resident, to make sure that all was in its place and the resident was safe. Then he’d give the resident his undivided attention. When it was time to leave, he’d give a last look around as if to make sure everything was ship-shape, then move on. I joked that he was like a kindly drill sergeant (I know, there’s no such thing!) The residents got such a kick out of the fact that this collie was making sure that they were safe and well looked after.
In March 2019 we acquired another pup, a sable and white female that we named Clarisse. Milo is her best buddy, but Macduff is the dog that she learns from. All three dogs worked with Pet-a-Pet Club until the pandemic put a stop to all visits.
Macduff received his big chance to shine, however, on December 2, 2019. I had been out walking all three of the dogs (Yes, the agoraphobia was cured by Macduff), and as we were nearing home I slipped in a patch of mud. Everything that followed is conjecture because I don’t remember what happened. I think I pulled the leashes back because I didn’t want to fall on the dogs, and this caused me to pitch forward and land squarely on my face in the road. I suffered a concussion and a broken nose, and I lost a front tooth. I don’t remember getting home. According to the tracking app I use to record our walks, I wasn’t down for long, so here’s what I think happened. I must have staggered to my feet and once I was up Macduff took charge. After all, it was the moment he had been waiting for his whole life. If anyone had shown up then, he would have made it clear that they should just back off because he’s got this. He must have led us all home. I have a vague memory of concentrating really hard to remember the key code to the door and calling Dave, who was en route to work, to tell him I’d had an accident. He raced home and was greeted by Clarisse, who led him to the kitchen. I was sitting at the table, covered in blood, Macduff on one side and Milo on the other, making sure I didn’t try to get up.
I was lucky; the concussion was mild and I suffered no lasting effects, although I like to joke that if I ever say or do something inappropriate, I can always use my head injury as an excuse. The dogs and I resumed our walks. Macduff would often give me some collie side-eye, especially whenever we’d walk where I fell, as if to say, “Are you going to fall on your face again? That was a pretty stupid thing to do, but if you’re going to do it again, I’m ready.” Dave walks the dogs in the evening, and now Macduff must make sure that I am safe before he will take his place with the rest of the pack. I am convinced that if he didn’t exactly save my life, he protected me from harm and brought me safely home. I love him so much, and now that love is augmented with complete faith and confidence in him. I trust Macduff with my life.
Barbara Yeamans says
My beloved Cheyenne crossed over the Rainbow Bridge, 3 years ago, yesterday. I grew up with dogs, and all sorts of animals. After growing up and moving away, I didn’t own dogs or cats, because I worked a lot, and didn’t want to have one if I wasn’t home with them. So about 2 years before retiring from teaching, I found my soul mate dog, Cheyenne. She was a Cocker/Retriever mix. She was 7 1/2 when I brought her home. Cheyenne was my steady companion until she was nearly 16. I think about her and miss her every day. My interesting story is, yesterday, Nov. 1, was the 3rd year anniversary of her passing. While at a dog wash washing my pup Allie, a little dog, a spitting image of her, walked past my tub. Not only did the pup look just like her, but was the same breed mix. Was it coincidence the dog walked by me? I think not. Somehow, I felt Cheyenne was saying ‘Hi.” I know she is always close by, but was a not too subtle message of that reminder. ❤️
Trisha says
Barbara, my hellos to Cheyenne too. Wonderful story.
Trisha says
Lisa, I think we all are in love with Macduff now too. I’m so grateful you shared this story. I love the description of him being such a serious dog. I’ve known dogs like that and it’s hard to convince those who’ve never met one how intense their “seriousness” is. (And so glad you are okay! Concussions are serious things.)
Trisha says
Oh Linda, I’m so sorry you had to go through that and lose a dog you tried so hard to help. It’s so hard to accept that we can’t fix everything. Behavioral symptoms of medical or physiological problems are the hardest I think, because there’s rarely a diagnosis. You did the right thing for her, because she was clearly suffering. I hope you can glory in the good times and remember her with love, guilt free.
Trisha says
To Beth and her Jack, her opinionated, talky and uber social Corgi boy. I am so sorry that you lost him, and recently besides. “Jack. No more, no less.” Perfect.
Trisha says
Laura, what a testament to your love to each of your dogs as individuals, and your hope and faith that you’ll survive losing Seamus as a partner, and find another guide to be your friend, protector and window to mobility. “Stable and confident in his work.” What a good good dog.
Kat says
Last week we had to put our three year old Purrcasso cat down due to an especially nasty and aggressive cancer. That’s had me thinking about all the creatures waiting for me at the other end of the Rainbow Bridge. There are a lot of them and there will undoubtedly be many more before I join them. Each one has brought something special into my life and I wouldn’t have traded any of them despite the heartbreak of losing them. Nicky the Bloodhound who when I was still I child taught me that dogs can think in tricky ways. He knew it was wrong to take my baby brother’s ice cream cone right out of his hand despite the cone being held directly at Nicky’s nose level. However, if the ice cream was to fall on the ground it would be fair for Nicky to take it. To make that happen Nicky would lean on my brother, 90 lbs of dog leaning on 30 lbs of toddler will always throw the toddler off balance and usually result in the ice cream hitting the ground where it would immediately vanish. Krystal the Great Pyrenees who showed me what it’s like when a dog chooses you. She was supposed to be the family dog and a semi-working dog (she slept in the barn with the sheep) but she chose me to be her person. Ranger the English Shepherd type who was my first dog as an adult. I sometimes joked that Ranger was my husband in canine form; the same qualities of interest in all people, wicked sense of humor, outgoing and friendly temperament could be found in both. Ranger was definitely a heart and soul dog. Ranger led me to Therapy Dog work and earned Therapy Dogs International’s highest honor before his passing. And Finna, GSD/Corgi, my beloved psycho bitch from hell who taught me more about dog training and behaviorism than any dozen sane dogs could have. I’ve loved them all so very much. And now there is D’Artagnan, Great Pyrenees. Before he came to us he’d been loved but his life had been small and limited. Watching him blossom and grow in the not quite a year he’s lived here has been a constant source of wonder and delight. The first time he tried telling us what he actually wanted rather than just going along with what we guessed he wanted I loved seeing the amazed delight on his face when it worked and I handed over a chew rather than opening the front door. His growing confidence when asked to do a strange new thing like climbing a driftwood pile at the beach. Things he used to balk at he now briefly considers and conquers confidently. There was a time when stepping stones across a creek would have meant we needed to turn back but recently he looked at it and confidently stepped from stone to stone to the other side. He’s such a happy boy and when he comes over and rests his head on my shoulder my heart melts. We call those D’Art hugs and they are the Best!
Trisha says
Lynn: Jerry Macguire, Tom Cruise. I see Piper, Tesla and Lynn curled into a circle, love flowing, streaming through. What a beautiful image.
Trisha says
Denise: Lucky lucky Chip to have you. The image of him in his doggie wheel chair makes me smile. It’s no less than astounding how much the right dog at the right time can save us. And it seems like you are paying in back in full to him. Thank you for writing your story, it’s wonderful.
Trisha says
MinnesotaMary: Rizzo was an amazing dog, I wish I had had the honor of meeting him. I love reading that you overcame your reaction to his looks and brought him home because Hazel fell in love. I too have met a few dogs I thought were truly ugly, and admit that I too would have been reluctant. But Hazel knew, what a brilliant girl sh was. I only tried 2 other dogs with Maggie, but she too picked out a dog, Skip, who has turned out to be one of the kindest and happiest dogs I’ve ever met. How lucky we are to have such brilliant match makers!
Wendy Green says
Patricia I told you my story of finding Tripp the Wonderdog on Mother’s Day 2005. 90 days after I took her in, got her healthy, a man came banging on my door claiming I Stole His Dog, and Tripp & I kneeled in the attic like Anne Franck. Tripp trying to climb inside me while he yelled.
We had 15 wonderful years together, and Tripp crossed the Rainbow Bridge in January. Already knew 2020 was gonna be a bad year.
So instead I’m going to give you a very simple Beef Wellington recipe for 2:
2 beef filets
1 package puff pastry
Onions or shallots
Mushrooms- Baby Bella processed very fine
Dijon
Thyme
Splash of brandy if you’re feeling groovy.
Preheat oven to 425
Defrost pastry and roll out 1 sheet. Cut in half.
Cook mushrooms in butter until all liquid is cooked out. Add thyme & brandy here if you like.
Cook minced onion until well carmelized and combine with mushrooms.
CONGRATS! You now have mushions which can be used in a variety of dishes.
Take filets and sear on high heat for about 2 minutes per side for finished rare.
Place 1 filet on half of puff pastry.
Slather with Dijon.
Top with mushions.
Wrap pastry tightly around filet like an envelope. Use a wet finger to seal seams.
Place pastry seams side down on parchment covered oven pan.
Repeat with 2nd filet.
Brush egg wash all over pastry.
Cut steam vents in top of pastry- I like Making my guests initials.
Bake filets at 425 for 15 mins, lower heat to 350 & cook 10 more minutes.
Remove from oven & let rest at least 5 minutes, 10 is better.
Bon Appétit!
Maureen Finn says
Years ago, early into my life with dogs, I used the term “heart dog” on one of my first Rottweilers. I can’t even remember who now, because now, lo these decades later, I know that each of them are my heart dogs. And, the older I get I find that even the ones that hang in the back, happy just rounding out the pack and in the klieg-light of the BIG LOVE of me with another of their pack, are precious to me. Little Pal, so dear ad sweet and wonderful even as Farley, and Daisy, take up the bulk my emotional bandwidth. He’s uncomfortable with my primate displays of affection, but oh my what a wonderful little guy (he’s 49 pounds to their 65 and 95 pounds).
Like many, I always have multiple dogs, and, also like many, these dogs tend to be fairly close in age (bringing in a youngster when your older two are 9 and 11 years seems unfair to all three), so I tend to have about 18 months of annus horribilus (ha!)as they leave, one by one. But each brings his or her own gifts to me, bright and shiny with LIFE and love and filling my life with unspeakable joy. Mikey, Hannah, Wil, Trinah, Troy, Dinah, Cutter, Farley, Pal, Daisy. Some are still with me physically, some long gone, all within my heart forever – indeed, the best part of my heart, the best part of who I am, is the part they gave to me. I cannot imagine how barren life would be without them.
LisaW says
I have no story to tell today. I’m holding my breath and storytelling takes a lot of breathing. I just want to say I love that you are who you are, Trisha, and I love this doggy-dog community, and I love reading all these great tails of the heart. They are keeping me in the shallow end. xoxo
Trisha says
LisaW: “…the shallow end.” Oh yes yes, I too am so grateful for this community. I knew it would help me get through the next few days, and it has delivered more than my expectations. Lucky us.
Trisha says
Maureen: Here’s to Mikey, Hannah, Wil, Trinah, Troy, Dinah, Cutter, Farley, Pal, Daisy. We are all the richer for them, and their cousins.
Trisha says
Wendy, you rock with your Beef Wellington recipe! I love it. I may… just may… try making my own puff pastry. I make rough puff all the time for pie (but never knew it’s name until British Baking), but I’ve never made full on pull myself. But I love your inspiration, sounds like you make it often. I’m motivated to try now sooner rather than later.
Trisha says
Kat: I feel like I know all your dogs, and am the better person for it. So many of us have followed the stories of Ranger and Finna, and been the better for your honest, funny and compassionate descriptions. And now there’s D’Art. Reading about your blooming relationship, and his growing sense of the width of the world’s possibilities, is one of the joys of my life.
Trisha says
Carol: How beautiful to hear your story about Ivy, and what a wonderful thing that you made such an honored film about her. Congratulations on that, and on giving Ivy such a wonderful second life.
Melanie says
You know the dog we all want when we are young and reading stories about the perfect and magical dogs that never go far away and always know the right thing to do? That was Indigo, my first German Shepherd. He wasn’t ever a cuddler, but would walk behind me on our hikes. He was off leash every where we went the last 9 or so years of his life because I could trust that my voice would bring him back when he (rarely) wanted to explore. We met hundreds of people and always they would say how majestic and wonderful he was. And he was. My trainer would ask us to demo obedience and personal protection and Indigo would sigh and do it with a look of really? Again? But he would get so happy and silly when I praised him- he knew that I thought he was so fabulous. That is all he wanted- not food, not a ball, not a pet. He wanted me to be happy and when he could do that, he was over the moon. When he was so tired of being here his last year, he kept on just because he could not disappoint me. He was a month shy of his 14th birthday and he didn’t have any illness, but his back legs were tired, his hearing was gone and his eyes were going. So I let him go. On ahead, like he rarely did when he was here with me.
I didn’t know if I could get another dog in my life. Perfection is hard to duplicate! But one day, about 8 months after he was gone, I came home to find one of Indigo’s squeaky balls on the steps up to the house. Now, I had left a couple in my yard and house as gentle reminders, but I knew exactly where those were. And this one, two steps up from ground level, was not one of them. I live alone. It was not there when I had left for work that morning. There is only one way that ball got there.
So I took a picture (it’s my phone screen) and called my trainer friends. Told them Indy had told me to get another dog, that it was time. And I did.
Because my Indy is the bestest dog and if there is any love in this world or the next, I will always follow Indigo where he leads me.
Tiffany LaBelle says
We adopted Murphy as a pup from a farm. I had been wanting a springer spaniel. My friend’s springer became “my dog” when I visited them for weekends in MN. My friend would always joke that she would lose her dog when I was there. Lol. I wanted that in my life too. Anyway, we brought Murphy home and from day one I was in love. He was a ball of energy and so smart, playful, sweet and funny. About a year later I saw Bayley ( another springer) on the local Humane Society website. I went to meet him and then brought my husband and Murphy back. We all loved him. Bayley was 9 months old when we adopted him. He was a funny thief who would become the hen of the house watching over his boy (our son born 4 years later). It’s hard for me to describe my love for both of these dogs. They had such personality and a love of life. There are so many stories…
–Coming home to a living room that looked like a cloud because they had ripped up the huge sofa back pillows when we were away at work.
–Murphy pretending he had to go outside to lure Bayley away from hogging the bones so he could circle back and claim one.
–Bayley stealing an entire deep fried turkey (like a holiday movie) and eating it (he did not get sick either) after my husband had sat outside for hours cooking it.
I could go on and on there are so many stories. These funny stories are what we talk about to make ourselves laugh when we miss them. We still miss them and always will. They each lived just shy of 17 years. We are so fortunate to have had them in our lives for so long.
Now we have a two year old border collie/heeler who (like your Willie) has taught me so much. He is turning into the best dog and I am turning into a better person because of him.
Patricia thank you for reaching out to people with your writing and experiences. It means so much to be able to share that with others who love their dogs endlessly. Thank you for giving us the opportunity to share these stories of our love of our dogs (and all our pets).
lak says
I picked up Noel from the Detroit Humane Society on a whim. I had wanted a dog for a long time but my working hours were such I did not think it was possible. I was on my was xmas shopping with my sister when she said “you should get a dog” and I turned the car around and went to the shelter. I wanted a small, old, lazy dog, they gave me a 6 month young, spry, supposedly boxer collie, who turned out to be an American Staffordshire terrier. And my life has not been the same since. She is the love of my life, she is the love of the neighborhood, she and I obtained her CGC, she is beautiful, kind, happy, strong, smart, and stubborn. I can hurt her feelings with a sharp tone, so I only speak softly. She was a starved, worm filled, flea ridden dog who could barely hold down food when she was picked up, and was still recovering from kennel cough when I adopted her. She grew very fast with the good food I fed her, she is now 63 pounds of pure muscle. We share the house, her and I, and she makes my day. she is now 8.5 years old and sleeps in longer than me on my day off, I still cook for her, and I talked to her constantly and it may sound strange but I think she understands most of what I say. I am a nurse and I tell everyone I work with and my patients as well that if I am ever hospitalized let the family stay home, but send in the dog! I say to her every day “how did I get so lucky to get the best dog in the world” and I mean it. I feel so lucky to have her with me, I have had a few people ask me what kind of dog she is, I just tell them “the greatest dog in the northern hemisphere”.
Jane Haynes says
My boy Quinn was the naughtiest puppy who became the nicest dog and is now a precious senior. His half sisters, Ada (Labrador) and our Cattle Dog mix Rosie Coyote, helped me raise him, and so he grew into a Labrador gentleman of the first order. Rosie died of bladder cancer at age 17 and Ada a year later at 10 of osteosarcoma. My devastation was on the order of bargaining with god to take my arms but give me one more hour with Ada (her death just a month after earning her MACH). When I got out of myself for a minute, I saw that Quinn was even more devastated than I was. My husband and I doted on him (Our children are grown and we are retired.) But he is a social boy, so 1.5 years later, we brought home his niece puppy Cora. She is anything but a lady – but he has taught her to play nicely, he housebroke her, and, when she was sick recently, he brought her tennis balls and bumpers. Our son and dil brought to their family, Quinn’s nephew, a gigantic yellow Lab named Royal – Quinn loves Royal and sometimes spends entire days at his house, helping this young, energetic boy relax and refrain from stealing food off the counters. Quinn initiates all the play with the young dogs. They love and respect him. He is their mentor. Quinn is 12.5, losing his vision, but not his appetite or his joy. My motto: Be Like Quinn
Beth Blankenship says
I don’t have permission for the music, but Happy was a true heart-dog. Adopted from the humane society, he was a wonderful pet and gentle introduction to the world of Border Collie.
https://youtu.be/HUMv9YqIZqg
Anita Schuneman says
Ah yes, that forever dog. Mine was Bo, who I met in the Behavior Dept. of the humane society where I volunteered to work with ‘difficult’ dogs. He’d come in as a stray, and wasn’t eating, cowering at the far corner of his kennel. I went into the kennel with my bag full of hot dog pieces and started tossing him bits. He ate them, and eventually approached and took them from my hands, climbed into my lap and melted my heart. In a couple weeks I took him home as a behavioral foster, but I had fallen completely in love with him the day I met him. And it was like falling in love–I was obsessed with him–couldn’t think of anything else, couldn’t focus on anything but Bo. As your reference to finding the combination to a padlock you carried around with you with Luke, with Bo I could feel the click as the puzzle pieces that were Anita and Bo clicked neatly into place when we found each. Of course the foster failed and I adopted him. I only had him three years before hemangiosarcoma stole him from me, but I wouldn’t trade that time for anything in the world. I don’t say it out loud often, but my connection with Bo was the strongest I’ve ever had with anyone of any species.
And finding and loving Bo gives me hope about the future when I’m depressed and discouraged and stressed. Before I met and loved Bo I had no idea of the intensity of feeling and joy waiting for me. I don’t expect ever to have that again, but I’m open to any other wonders the universe may have in store for me.
Trisha says
To Anita and the spirit of Bo: What a love story. What a love. Beautiful, thank you.
Trisha says
Jayne: “Be like Quinn.” Oh yes, sounds like we could all use such a wise and yet playful mentor.
Trisha says
To lak, and the “greatest dog in the northern hemisphere”: Love the old, lazy dog who turned into a 6-month old fireball. What a lucky girl she. What a wonderful love story, thanks for sharing it.
Heidrun says
Thank you for this love-ly idea <3
When I got my first dog, a dream finally came true. I had always wanted a dog since I was a child but had to wait until I was 25 years old.
Admittedly I had pictured life with a dog very romantic and my first dog didn't quite fit in this picture. Nor did the second and third one over the many years since. Even the dogs I am living with right now don't show any of those heroic features, selfless love and devotion that seem to make a "good" dog. I adore(d) them nevertheless.
I always wondered what people were talking about when they mention their one "soul dog", the once-in-a-lifetime dog, the dog that was so special. My dogs were always kind of "normal" dogs with nothing special to them. Surely they were special to me but that doesn't count, does it?
Or does it count that my heart seems to burst every time I look at them? To remember all those stories and adventures, all these happy moments and tearful, heartbreaking goodbyes I lived through with my dogs? To feel like the sun is coming up because my dog enters the room with this mischivous little grin on his face? To know for sure that he would do anything for me and I for him?
Every dog brought something into my life that had been missing before. And each of my dogs had a very distinctive personality, every one had some faults, special needs or quirks to make my life not quite as comfortable as I liked it to be. They taught me a lot about tolerance, making compromises and finding solutions to problems I wouldn't have had without them: they forced me to grow. So I presume I already lived with several once-in-a-lifetime dogs.
Maybe I will never know but the main thing is: I love and have loved all of them with all my heart. And always will.
Trisha says
Tiffany: I love this story more than I can say, in part because it speaks to the universal (almost) experience of remembering the trouble our dogs have caused with love and affection. (And entire deep fried turkey? That’s a winner right there.) What lucky dogs to live with you for 17 years. And lucky us to get to enjoy them too, even after they are gone.
Trisha says
To Melanie and the spirit of Indigo. We all know I’m a scientist and love logical and data. But I love this story too, it brought goose bumps — the good kind. Your story of Indigo is movie worthy, especially if the ending is the ball on the steps long after his death. Thank you so much for sharing this!
Trisha says
Heidrun: Your heart bursts every time you look at your ‘normal’ dogs? Ah, oh, oh, I think you just have a huge heart and know that every dog, every individual is special. They sound like heart dogs to me.
Michelle Hamil says
I have this Husky-mix, Mowgli. When I adopted him. he was 7 months old, full of fleas with ear infections so bad we thought he was deaf. He was my first dog as an adult. I didn’t know a thing about taking care of a dog but knew that I wanted him to behave well so I could take him everywhere. We happened upon the best possible first trainer, using positive methods we had fun together, we learned and played together…once at the end of an afternoon serving at some function in the park, I realized that I was getting sick and layed under a tree to take a nap; he layed between my legs and slept with me. Once, he hung out beneath me as I climbed through trees trying to avoid flood water on a hike, patiently waiting — I’m sure wondering what I was doing. On one of our first camping trips, he layed next to me all night with his paw on me. When a hiking stick was left behind he wouldn’t come when called and he wouldn’t leave the spot until we went back to claim the stick. He is an enthusiastic noseworker. You can actually see him thinking. There are so many more stories. I couldn’t understand how this communicative, intelligent being was a dog and not a boy. And then he became a teenager. He wouldn’t come when called — I watched him deciding if coming to me was worth his while; he stopped automatically responsing to my asks; he only worked if I had a treat (a classic training blunder). I was in over my head and we floundered. His intelligence required a better trainer than me and someone with all the time in the world to keep his active mind engaged. Now he is 14, in pain a lot of the time, going deaf, but still excited to learn new things and work; he is still trying to communicate with me; he has returned to sleeping at my feet. I love this dog.
Heidi says
Oh Patricia how I love YOU! Jeff and I have been through three and have two and at least once a week we marvel about how blessed we’ve been with such good dogs. I can’t say I have one heart/forever dog because I’ve had/have five lol! Four are mature rehomes; Malaki is the only one since puppyhood. The bond is very different – not better but definitely different. I love my husband and he loves me – we are 21 year long companions but the dogs are the ones who have become are soulmates each in their own distinctive way. I am a 21 year sober recovering alcoholic with PTSD and bipolar disorder who has always had suicidal ideation. My dogs are as much if not more support as my friends and family. They are my suicide prevention in the worst of times. Humans can at least cognitively wrap their heads around abandonment – maybe the why needs professional help sometimes – but the thought of my dogs not knowing why I left them behind stops my heart in its tracks. At the end of it all dogs are a love story purely by being dogs.
Mary Hanvik says
Just lost our lovely cat, Big Boo. Irascible, not at all snuggly but fiercely loyal to me, the first person whose lap he sat on. I slept with him on my belly for his last three nights. He went peacefully, held by me and my husband. There’s nothing sadder than losing a beloved companion, but nothing more precious than being with them at the end.
Wendy S. Katz says
Well. That post had me choked up all the way through. I remember that moment of falling in love with a dog who seemed an unlikely prospect. I wasn’t sure I wanted 9 month old Cassie – she was fat and ungainly and not that interested in grownup humans. But I took her home anyway. She had never been inside a house, and followed me around observing my activities. When I watered the houseplants her eyes lit up and her jaw dropped in amazement, “You made water appear from your hands!” We fell in love that instant and she became my heart dog. 6 months later I adopted a puppy. They were as different as could be – Cassie was so quick and intuitive she made me feel like a brilliant trainer; Calvin was so soft and needed things split so finely I had to actually think about our training. Together, we were one complete organism. 12 years after their deaths, I still choke up when I think of them. The dogs who came after had harder starts in life and various issues; I had to make an effort of will to love them for exactly who they were. It worked, and we have had good times together too. Right now I’m enjoying the peaceful pleasures of sharing life with an aging dog who is patient with my busyness but always up for my latest crazy training project.
Mary Kaminski says
Beth: I also lost my Cardigan Welsh Corgi, Gracie, to cancer of the sinus. She was one month short of her 14th birthday. Gracie was sick for a year – I was lucky in that I got her into a Radiation Oncology study that gave her the extra time.
I got Gracie 3 years after I lost my first Cardi, Yankee, who was my heart dog. It took that long for me to be ready for another dog. And it took me a long time to fully give my heart to Gracie. Gracie, who was her own dog. Never cuddly, always in charge & followed her own drummer. Incredibly social, but not one to suffer fools gladly. She stole my heart completely, in the end. Losing her was devastating.
Now I have 2 Cardi boys, litter mates – I adopted them 6 months after losing Gracie, when they were 7 yrs old. What was I thinking? All I know is, I don’t know where I would be without them. Yes, it took two to follow in Gracie’s shadow. Two big goofy boys. Such goobers. I love them both.
But now I know the truth – they are all our heart dogs. And while the heart is a fragile thing and can shatter into a million pieces, it is also infinite in it’s capacity to stretch and allow others to enter. It must be magic.
Heidi Jankowski says
Love is a real thing! Thank you for your writing and the chills the words send up my spine and the tears that well up in my eyes when I read your words. I am so in love with my dogs, and too, have been blessed with very special relationships with each of them. I currently have six. I know that’s my maximum pack level because I don’t think the older one gets enough attention, but she never complains and gets the spot on my pillow when we sleep at night. Sending our love to you as we find our way through these trying times.
Anne Johnson says
Mine is not a story of one who I Have lost (dear Kippy) but of my Tank. Your story of Will is parallel to mine because I knew he was not a good fit for my situation, but the love I’ve had with this dog matches/surpasses the love I had for Kippy. Tank and my other male, Shadow, have gotten into ugly scrapes, but thanks to my perseverance and working with Dr. London, reading your wonderful memoirs, I have been able to see progress. I’m not finished with their training, but I can’t imagine my life without Tank. He makes me smile, he knows when I need a hug, he loves to be outside with me when I work the horses, he loves to ride in my jeep/truck. It’s never easy to say the final goodbye to any of my canine companions, but I also will never not have a dog in my life.
My best to you and your clan.
Trisha says
Thank you Anne, here’s to Tank and your love for him!
Trisha says
Heidi: Oh those sweet sweet older ones who never complain! So glad she gets pride of place at night with you.
Trisha says
Mary K and Corgis: The goobers. Love that!
Trisha says
Wendy, whose hands create water out of air. Thank you so much for your story, here’s to Cassie and Calvin, and all that follow.
Trisha says
Mary H: Cats too, oh yes yes. I had to put my first cat down, Chat, also irascible but my first pet as an adult and my best friend for so long.
Trisha says
Heidi: Your story stopped my own heart in its tracks. I am so grateful that you wrote, and so glad that you have your dogs to keep you here with them, and Jeff. And us. Thank you.
angi buettner says
Dear Trisha,
Thank you so much for this. It was what I needed today. We lost our Misty a fortnight ago and the heartbreak is still in process.
https://www.facebook.com/fin.cooper/posts/10158881065272938
Trisha says
Oh Angi, so fresh. Hang in there. So sorry.
liz says
They each love us in their own ways. Morning hand kisses. A comforting proximity. A gentle snuggle. A glance to check in. So lucky to have had a loving dog for close to 17 years. He’ll turn 17 in Feb. I wouldn’t believe he was that old had I not brought him home as a 3 month old fluffster. Thank you, Helix, for loving me so well… loving me for so long. Always knowing what I need.
Beth with Corgis: sorry for your loss; will always remember the Maddie and Jack stories. Classics.
Alexander says
Dear Patricia McConnell, again from “Down Under”——-You and your responders have “got to me “—-Blessed are those who have earned the love of an old dog—through my tears I can smile for my friend and I walked together for a little while.Keep safe, Baz
Gayle says
Trisha – this is what I needed to find in my email box this morning!! I’m laying in bed too afraid to learn the outcome of yesterday …. waiting for one of my friends to text me and let me know what happened…. while waiting I decided to open my email and there was your post!! Love! Yes love is what we need right now!!
22 years ago at 36 I became a widow when my husband was killed by an out of control motorist. My world shattered….. we had not started our family yet so I did not have any children to focus on. Our house is on an acre surrounded by old horse farms. One day about a year after my husband’s death my neighbors young golden retriever crossed the large pasture between our houses crawled under the fence and brought me a stick to throw….. and throw…. and throw…… what joy in that pups face as he ran to get the stick and bring it back to me, over and over and over!!! Well that was the beginning!!! I found myself out in my yard a lot looking over to my neighbors house hoping to see a flash of his golden tail and if I did I would call out my cat’s name pretending to be looking for her when really I was hoping that that golden ball of love would hear my voice and come over. Now you have to understand it’s a big pasture between our houses so I was pretty much yelling my cats name at the top of my lungs!! And sure enough I would see that tail stop moving and then in a flash he would crawl under the fence and fly across the field and then under another fence into my yard!! When I think about it now I hear music and it all plays back in slow motion!!! I remember telling my therapist that I thought I was falling in love ….. with a dog!!
Well it turns out this pup was actually my neighbors daughters dog who unfortunately was leaving an abusive marriage – she couldn’t take the dog to where she was moving but she also didn’t want to leave the pup with her ex. So her parents got the dog! Now they already had three dogs and lived in an old farmhouse with a lot of antiques so the addition of a big gold retriever was not quite what they had in mind!
His name was Dfer, their granddaughter had named him, she was learning her ABC’s and he was “D for Dog” shortened to just Dfer!
So Dfer became a daily visitor to my yard and we would play, and play and play!!! He also started coming over at night, they would let their dogs out one last time around 9:00 and sometimes he would take off and end up at my back door. It happened so often we worked out a system that when he did that I would turn on my back flood lights to let them know he was safe with me. (this was before cell phones!!)
One day as my neighbor was mowing the field and Dfer and I were playing in my yard he stopped the tractor and said “you know, I think he’s more your dog than ours – do you want to keep him?” I said are you sure?! You better talk to Pam (his wife) about it!! Well it turned out that Pam thought it was a great idea and I adopted Dfer! My first dog!! Yes my heart dog!!! He lived a joyful and adventurous life till he was 10 years old when cancer took him. I had a few weeks after finding out and I too made my bed on the floor so we could be together 24/7 in his final weeks.
Oh what love he brought back into my life!!!!
Thank you Trisha for taking us down this wonderful road of memories – I SO needed this today!!!
Trisha says
And Gayle, I so needed this this morning too! I’ll carry your love story with me all day. Thank you so much for sharing it.
Trisha says
Thank you Alexander, glad we got to you, in the best way possible. Pretty amazing people read this blog, hey?
Trisha says
liz–17 years? Oh my, amazing. How wonderful you’ve had that long. Thanks for telling us about it.
Melanie Hawkes says
Wow, what a wonderful topic! I am still waiting for my “heart” dog, but my heart is finally full of love and joy for my current dog Upton. It has been a tough five years of behavioural issues (he failed public access testing as my assistance dog), allergies and gut problems, but things are starting to improve.
Last week he was at the vet having a broken tooth removed and I missed him more than I expected! Then on Friday I took him to visit my dying gran in her nursing home. The joy he brought to the staff and residents made me so proud, and he has given me great comfort and emotional support since her death on Sunday. As much as I am looking forward to getting a new, successful dog one day, I know it won’t be easy to say goodbye to Upton.
Oh and thanks for your blog topic of exercises that you do with your dogs in July. Upton is doing Paws Up (30 seconds x 3 sets once a day about a foot high) and Down Ups x 14 twice a day. It did indeed take some time for him to get the hang of not moving his feet and not sitting for a treat! But it’s one of his favourite activities now, and he always looks disappointed when we stop. His bowen therapist and acupuncture vet were very impressed!
LisaH says
I fell in love with my BC Java within an hour of meeting him. He was a sweet, active, muddy 10 week old and during the car ride home from the breeder, I actually felt my heart explode – I always thought to myself that it was as if I had been hit by Cupid’s arrow. I let him go in Jan. 2020 (age 13) but I never lost my pure joy and amazement and obsession with him. I’d run home on work breaks simply to watch him sleep in his crate or spend 15 minutes with him. I rearranged my entire life for him, happily, joyfully. My husband remarked that sometimes he felt like he was living with me and my boyfriend, LOL. I have another BC, who is an extremely good girl, but, its just different. I will be getting another male BC pup sometime in 2021 and hoping for another love match.
Rachel Lachow says
As a dog trainer, I frequently fall in love with clients’ dogs. Some of them look deeply into my eyes and tell me the things they’ve been trying to tell their owners. Sometimes I feel more like a translator than a trainer. One of those dogs was Jib (then Hershey), a perfect parti-colored chocolate and white standard poodle puppy. He was brilliant and funny and unappreciated by his busy, stress-filled owner whose elderly mother had just moved in. Jib was nine weeks old and begging to be trained, loving to be trained, but he took the tissues out of the mother’s sleeves where she stored them, he leapt at the pompoms on her cane, he hated to be crated away from the family so she could rest. He learned so quickly but his family was inconsistent and often unavailable. They called me when he was four months old and said they just couldn’t do it. They couldn’t have a mom and a puppy to deal with. I hesitated just long enough to make sure it was ok with my husband, and said, I’ll take him, I love him! Her husband, a lawyer, wrote a contract, I signed it and he was mine.
As a formerly only sighthound owner, he seemed like a miracle, he is a miracle. He didn’t need a leash, he only needed to keep me in sight. He’s not perfect, he guards me from my other dogs. I taught him to leave my side and go to his bed when he growls at the other dogs. Quickly, he taught himself to bark or growl once and then get up and go! He and I had years of hiking, birding, swimming, retrieving, agility and obedience trials. Now he is almost 13 and not well. He has a cough, maybe COPD the vet says. His rear is failing from spinal stenosis. He is always by side, except at night because he can no longer climb the stairs. He grumbles at the younger hounds like the grumpy old man he is. He allows me to groom him, badly, during this covid time with only videos and his patient love to help me. Wherever I go, he hauls himself nearby and watches me intently. This love story is nearing is end and already my heart is breaking.
Trisha says
Rachel, what a beautiful story you have written us. I wish your Jib could live forever, but I’m so glad you found each other. Thank you for sharing all this love with is.
Ayn says
Thank you for sharing stories of love and hope. Thank you to all the commenters for their stories of love and hope.
Even though I have now come to think of all my dogs as heart, soul, and forever dogs, my very first dog as an adult set the stage for all the others. He opened my heart in a way that it had not been opened yet,He was full grown (100 lb) yellow retriever variety that I rescued more than 30 years ago. I was living in the city. It was lonely and I thought perhaps having dog might provide some companionship. I wasn’t connecting with any of the dogs and puppies that I saw at the local shelter or that people were trying to sell to me. I went to visit my father in the country. My step mother told me that look at their local pound because it was always full of puppies this particular time of the year. She was right. The pound was full. Full of puppies crammed together in large crates. Full of larger dogs stacked on top of each other. I will never forget when I walked back to the kennel area. Every dog in the place starting barking and jumping and rushing the doors except one. My future dog could barely sit up in the crate, but he was. He was sitting at attention staring at me with the most beautiful amber colored eyes. Those eyes looked at me with pure love. I picked him. Unfortunately, he still had to test him for rabies and heart worms. (budget constraints only allowed dogs that might be adopted to get tested.) I waited and waited. He came back positive for heart worms. They told me I did have not take him. They told me that the treatment was expensive and more importantly that he might not survive it. (IV arsenic for two days). I took him. It was something in those eyes that said we were meant to be together. The staff told me they were so glad I picked him. He was on the euthaniza list for that afternoon. I put him in the backset of my car and he settled down. About fifteen minutes later, he placed his front feet on the console next me and he leaned into me. I couldn’t help but feel the love. I named him Tyler. He not only survived the treatment but he thrived. He was most intuitive easy dog I have ever had. He did not need any training. He knew when to sit and lay down and come when called. He retrieved like a champ. He could even retrieve three tennis balls in his mouth at time when thrown in the water. He played and body surf the waves better than many surfers. He was the peacemaker at the unofficial neighborhood dog park somehow his calmly quiet energy radiating out to the misbehaving or overly aggressive dogs enough to stop them from acting badly. He was an unofficial therapy dog for the college students at the local university campus where we took our afternoon walks. He loved the students and they loved him. He accepted their pets and would retrieve the balls they threw for hours. I had him for a little over ten years. I still think about him every day.
It took over a year before I could get another dog. But I did because I knew that Tyler would want me to share the love with another dog. I am glad I did because I have gotten to love and be loved by many other dogs. They have each had their own personalities, challenges, and blessings. I am richer because of each and every one of them.
Trisha says
Oh Ayn, thank you for sharing your love story about Tyler. What an old soul he was. I am so grateful that you found each other that fateful day.
Mike B says
You are so true there is nothing like a dogs love when a dog fines there person they love them unconditionally. I have found my forever dog well he found me he just ran in to the house and my oldest girl asked if he could stay inside. Next thing I know he became my shadow and I love him so much his name is Rocky.
j says
on an entirely different note, did you see this piece in the NYT? Maybe a good post topic?
https://www.nytimes.com/2020/11/09/science/dogs-aging-behavior.html?action=click&algo=als_engaged1_desk_filter&block=editors_picks_recirc&fellback=false&imp_id=689626957&impression_id=63a41ae1-252c-11eb-873f-37b7aed0b16c&index=1&pgtype=Article®ion=footer&req_id=9501263&surface=home-featured
Trisha says
j: Yes, saw it! Great topic. Never run out!
Trisha says
Chris from Boise couldn’t get her computer to post her comment, so I said I’d do it for her. (Please send lots of cyber love to her computer, maybe it’ll help?
We had always been a single dog household until Habi entered our lives. After a year of Habi-hell, goat rancher friends offered us Bandit to be her Zen master. We didn’t want him; one dog was more than we could handle, if that dog was Habi. But they insisted. Bandit was an Aussie, and supposed to be their ranch dog, but he was too full of love to be able to push the goats around as needed. He’d just lie down in the pasture and ooze love out of every pore. Which was what they didn’t need, and Habi did. So, Bandit came to live with us, and was exactly what Habi needed. And he was exactly what we needed, too. He taught us the truth of the old song:
Love is something if you give it away,
give it away, give it away –
love is something if you give it away,
you end up having more.
It’s just like a magic penny,
Hold it tight and you won’t have any,
But lend it, spend it, you’ll have so many
They’ll roll all over the floor!
He opened our hearts, and the more we loved, the more capable we were of loving more. When Bandit died, too young, of cancer, we brought home Obi to be Habi’s next tutor. When Habi died, we brought home Rowan to be Obi’s pal (still a work in progress, that – looking forward to your post on mis-matched play styles! – but getting better all the time). And our hearts keep expanding. Amazing!
Amy O says
I have read a lot of your work. I have had many dogs, all special in their own way. A fox terrier,Chelsea, whose was very sweet, and whose tenacity I admired. A shepherd mix that found his way to my yard and never left. I named him Lukas and he was loyal and obedient. Then I had my trio of boys. A sweet sable collie named Casey. And a white collie, Finnagan who just barely survived a neglectful breeder. He was a clown, the instigator of the group. My forever dog came in the form of a Golden/Chessie? Retriever from a shelter. I fell in love with him the day I brought him home and I named him Ripley. We had a silent bond I can’t explain. He helped me through a very painful divorce, got me out of bed and kept me going one day at a time. I knew he felt my pain. He would lay his big, soft head on my lap and look up at me. He died in 2017 of hemangiosarcoma. I know I will never have another Ripley. I still miss him every single day.