I shouldn’t have been surprised at the depth of my grief when Willie died. After all, I’m the one who wrote about his uncle that “I imagine his death as if someone took the oxygen out of the air and I was supposed to live without it”. Every week I post comments from people who have had to put dogs down, and their pain and suffering is so acute it hurts my heart every time I read them.
And yet, the tsunami of grief that overwhelmed me after Willie died was so intense that I barely made it through the first few days. I knew it would be awful. Just not that awful. Now that I am no longer in danger of drowning, I can’t stop wondering why we love our dogs so much that their deaths are almost unbearable. I think it’s an important psychological and sociological question that hasn’t had enough consideration.
Here’s my best guess: Dogs get us coming and going. They elicit profound love and nurturance as do our own young, AND they give us the unconditional love we all need/want from our parents. In other words, they wrap us up in everything we need from our families, from the bottom up and the top down. Bear with me while I elaborate:
First, grown up dogs may be sentient adult mammals, but they are non-verbal and basically helpless, just like our own young. Dogs can communicate, but they can’t use the richness and nuance of human language. This is often a disadvantage–they can’t tell us what’s hurting them, or take comfort in our explanation of thunder. However, it is of course also an advantage, in that it makes our relationship with them simpler and devoid of the baggage that weighs on our human relationships like an anchor.
These advantages and disadvantages are important, and they are all based on the fact that like human infants and toddlers, dogs can’t talk. And many ways, they are as helpless as a toddler. Sure, they can face down a ram in the barnyard, or scratch open a cabinet door to get the garbage, but they can’t open a door to escape a fire, they can’t buy their own dog food, and they can’t tell us when and where they are in pain.
Thus, dogs elicit primal emotions from us that are central to our being. Our brain, hormones and behavior are designed to respond to young, helpless mammals. If it wasn’t so, no three-year old would make it past the day that they’d painted the wall with feces when their parents were so tired they could cry.
None of this is new to any of us, right? Neither is it news that dogs are famous for giving us “unconditional love”. Most of the time dogs seem to think we hung the moon, even though none of us really deserve it. (Caveat: See “dogs can’t talk” section above. Willie’s uncle Luke had a look I called “—- You”, and the first word wasn’t “Love”.) But most of the time, there is simply no one in our lives that loves us as much as does a dog. You’d think we’d won a gold medal when we arrive home and our dog’s behavior says YOU ARE THE MOST WONDERFUL THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME. Every time we pick up a leash or a shepherd’s crook or the car keys we are THE BEST THING EVER IN THE ENTIRE WORLD.
But there’s more to this “unconditional love” thing than making us feel momentarily happy. The desire for it is as primal as the need to nurture baby mammals. We hear at length about the need for children to feel unconditional love from their parents to be truly healthy as adults. (Remember that this does not mean spoiling children or creating no boundaries. I love you does not equal I love everything you do.)
Ask any parent (or child) how easy this is to pull off. Not many of us, even those who have had good, caring parents, grew up feeling unconditionally loved. Not many parents that I know feel like they’ve pulled it off as well as they wish they had. And yet, dogs are experts at it. How often, in the rest of your life, do you feel like THE BEST THING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD? In capital letters? What a gift.
And so, here we are, smack in the middle of two basic, primal needs that only dogs can give us–the need to nurture, love, and protect young mammals who are part of our family, and the need to feel deeply loved, just because we are, well . . . us. So dogs are primal replicates of our children and our parents, all wrapped up into soft, cuddly individuals with loving eyes, expressive faces and goofy tails. Wow. No wonder.
In some ways, none of this is news. But I haven’t heard those two things put together in quite the same way. And you? What do you think? I’d bet the farm (and I have one to bet) that there are some of the world’s greatest dog lovers reading this post, and I’d love to hear your thoughts.
MEANWHILE, back on the farm: We’re just back from the Nippersink or Swim Sheepdog Trial outside of Lake Geneva, WI. It’s one of my favorite trials because the course is gorgeous and huge, and the sheep are “light” and reactive rather than “heavy” and stodgy. Maggie loves huge, open areas and loves light sheep, although in her first run she over flanked repeatedly, not being used to sheep that are so responsive. But she quickly adapted and worked the sheep beautifully on second run. It was her first big trial since last July before she injured her leg so I was truly happy that she had a lovely second run. She made one costly mistake at a key moment (argh!), and lost a lot of points because of it, but we both recovered, got back on the course and got a very tricky pen. Most importantly, she was as happy as I’ve seen her since Willie died, and that was my primary goal. Willie loved the smaller, easier novice courses, but didn’t like the pressure of long drives in what’s called Open Ranch or Pro Novice class. Maggie seems to adore trialing, and always wants back on the course after her run. It was rough skipping almost all of the trial season last year because of her leg injury, not to mention all the time (and $) spent on physical therapy, but, cross your paws, it seems to be paying off.
Here’s just a small section of the course. It’s one of the prettiest in the Midwest.
I love this photo below, with its gorgeous green hills in the background, the reality of spring in the foreground (aka “mud”), and the commitment of the dog to get around to the back of the sheep and turn them into the exhaust pen.
You don’t want to stand in the way of sheep going into the pen to join their flockmates.
A few more photos from the weekend (from top left, clockwise): The whistles we use to communicate at a distance, paws in black and white, the ubiquitous porta potties, rain and mud required lots of shaking off, and Maggie enjoying a play session to warm up before her run.
I look forward to your thoughts about our love affair with dogs.
HFR says
That is so interesting to put those 2 theories together and when put together it makes perfect sense.
I would like to add one more thing that perhaps isn’t as flattering for us humans. I think we love dogs (and all of our pets) because we can be completely selfish with them. I am of the belief that humans are naturally selfish and we battle with that all our lives.
With children, parents are often forced to sacrifice their wishes for their child’s well being. Not that we don’t sacrifice for our dogs, but we don’t have to worry about what they would think of us (which is something many of us do all day long in the people world) or worry that we have said something to offend them or feel as if we weren’t grateful enough for something they have done for us. It’s hard work trying to be a good human. There is a constant check list in our heads that we subconsciously go through in our work and home lives to make sure all is balanced and it can be exhausting.
With dogs, a lot of that is just not there. You are good to them because you truly want to be not because they expect it. If you get home late or are just too tired to take them to the park, they don’t hold it against you. It is that unconditional thing again, but in a way that you could never get from a human. It’s pure and unrelenting. The strongest of human bonds: that of a parent and child, that of a husband and wife, that of a sister and brother, that between friends will never be that independent of your own thoughts or behavior. Steady is the word that comes to mind. Steady love.
It’s also probably the only relationship we can have where we are totally, 100% in control. We make all the decisions, for better or for worse. That is mostly not a good thing, but it feels good in this crazy world to have total control over something, doesn’t it?
So that’s why I say it’s a selfish kind of love. Very little demanded of us with a huge return. It’s a relief when I get home at the end of a long day at work and my guys are not expecting anything from me. It’s just good enough that I’m home.
Now why we continue to torture ourselves with this deep love knowing that we will have to live through its loss, that’s the mystery to me and something that should be studied. And we do it to ourselves over and over again. I think the research results would probably say something simple like “it’s worth it”.
Trisha says
Oh, right on HFR, I think you’ve made an important point. Although… Maggie at the moment is staring at me asking why we are not working the sheep and I am puttering around the stove…
Heidrun says
Your thoughts/theories put together make perfectly sense. I have never thought about it that way and I am a bit stunned.
And there is another thing about dogs: with them, you always know where both of you stand, what to expect (in matters of their feelings, not necessarily their behaviour…). There is no room for interpretation, everything with a dog’s feelings and emotions is simple, pure and clear.
They don’t withheld any of it. Whether it is joy or frustration, love or anger – it is always on display, never hidden (at least if you know the dog and are aware about a dog’s way of communication).
This makes it a lot easier for me to interact with dogs than with people. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy human company, meeting friends and making new ones. But there is always the slight feeling of walking unknown territory: are they just being polite – or do they really mean what they say?
Being with the dogs on the other hand is always being “home and safe”. Dogs don’t pretend to like or love you and one can always be sure the feelings on display are genuine. The sense of safety is an important element in a relationship, I believe, and this makes it so easy to love them.
I am really happy for you that Maggie is in good shape and you can participate in trials again!
Lainy says
This is by far your best blog, IMHO. I am in awe of the way my dogs looks at me when I feel I really haven’t done much to deserve it! Everyday I look at them and think, how did I get so very lucky to have this animal love me so very much? I walk them, play with them, bath and take care of them give them incredibly expensive toys and food, without a thought, and they just look at me and I feel, maybe I could do a little more!
And I know the time will come, it has come many times before in my life. Never getting any easier, in fact, I believe it’s getting harder. But I still cannot imagine my life without them.
I am reminded of a saying by Irving Townsend, sent to me by a veterinarian who had recently helped a dog of mine to Rainbow Bridge.
“We who choose to surround ourselves with lives
even more temporary than our own,
live within a fragile circle easily and often breached.
Unable to accept it’s awful gaps, we still would live no other way.
We cherish memory as the only certain immortality,
never fully understanding the necessary plan.”
BTW I do love all of your blogs, this one was just special and I thank you for that.
Jana says
I so totally agree with the comments and sentiments expressed above, and never thought of it so succinctly before. However, this also helps me understand the pain in the decision some people make when they lose a beloved dog, to never get another one. That always baffled me before. I can’t imagine getting through the pain and grief of losing one dog, without having another in the house to ease that suffering. And I well know that the next dog won’t be the same. He’ll be better and worse in all of his own unique ways. But I now recognize some people feel they just can’t love that way again.
I also have a few friends who’d never had a dog, never wanted one, and then circumstances changed and they ended up with a dog. Each one came up to me later and said that they finally understood why I had dogs and would never be without one. My dogs have made me a better person.
Aixa says
My deepest, relatable sympathy for you Trish. The hardest thing about owning a dog is saying good bye, no matter how difficult or sick your dog may be, no matter how complicated your life gets, the deep bond and happiness they bring to your life is undeniable. We had a standard poodle diagnosed with addisons and infectious endocarditis at 3 yo. His prognosis was not good but he lived to 11yo. The emotional and financial load was real but we dealt with is happily and when he passed of cancer it hit us very, very hard, even though we had been “preparing” ourselves for years. We still get weepy when we think of him after 5 years but we feel incredibly lucky and grateful to have had him in our lives for so many years. I am sending you a big hug and may all the wonderful memories bring you some comfort. Thank you for sharing him indirectly with us, his spirit lives on in everything you share. 🐾❤️
Jane Haynes says
I read with tears your description of drowning in grief. When my Lab Ada died at age 10 only two weeks after showing cancer symptoms and two weeks after she earned her MACH, I was drowning in grief to the point of wanting to die myself, of bargaining with God that h/she could have my right arm if I could spend one more day with her. And I meant it. Five years later, her loss can still hit my heart like a sledgehammer in sudden desolate moments. For I would add to your reasons we love so and we grieve so is that our dogs seduce us into play and silliness and unselfconcious abandon. They release us from “adulting” to feel the joy we felt as children when we played horses with our best friend or watched for Santa on Christmas Eve. Ada’s half brother Quinn was also stunned by grief – ours and his – but his sweetness helped us get back to reality, and her grand niece Cora, arriving 1.5 yrs later, was certainly sent by Ada, as she is a kindred spirit, a comfort dog, child lover, and snuggler.
penny says
the above blog is amazing and very thought provoking thank you!
Nancy says
I LOVE this blog! Thank you! I think you are exactly right. I would love to explore the non verbal connection more. I have a feeling it connects us much deeper than we realize. I work with children of all ages and I have often noticed that we communicate much deeper with body language, facial expressions, and tones. Words can seem to complicate the message. Non verbal expressions seem to be more authentic. I’m very curious about this aspect of our deep connection with our amazing dogs.
My heart is with you and Jim. I am so deeply sorry about Willie. I’m sending you hugs!
Diana Rubin says
I agree with Lainy. For me, this is one of your best essays — ever. I’ve spent hours scouring the internet trying to understand what it is in myself that makes me love — and grieve — so much more the loss of a companion pet than any human who has ever passed through my life. So much, in fact, that I had begun to fear a terrible fault in myself. Your words though, have put it into a context that now makes me feel okay about loving animals too much. And, in a way that no “explanation” I’ve ever found has been able. After reading and re-reading your post, I now understand that I am not a bad person because of how the loss of a companion pet affects me. To the extent — that up until now — I’d never been able to admit to others.
Barbara says
Another aspect to losing a beloved animal is that it is an unwelcome milestone in our lives. A uniquely wonderful period in our lives is OVER and we will NEVER have that again. We may have a new relationship with a new pet that will be equally good but WE are now different. We are older. We may no longer be able to do the same activities that we enjoyed before. It reminds us that we are not immortal either.
Ok, a horse is not a dog. They don’t live in the house. They don’t give unconditional love. However. I had an amazing Anglo-Arab gelding named Fritz for twenty-one years. During that time I took riding lessons, went on long trail rides and to horse shows, I groomed him, fed him, loved him, made many memories. Fritz was a communicative horse. He let me know how he was feeling. “See that big rock up there? When we gallop past it I’m going to spook!” And I would laugh and tell him not to. Riding him was a joy.
When he had to be put down at age 31 (tumor on his intestines) I cried for weeks, months. I was no longer the young woman who bought this horse. I had physically and mentally aged to the point that starting over was not possible. So, for me – the “end of an era”. Four months after Fritz died I walked down to the barn, saw his halter and burst into tears. A year after he died my husband used Fritz’s feed tub to haul some compost. How insensitive! But then I was able to convince myself that I had survived and (sort of) laugh it off.
My point is that losing an animal friend marks the end of something we treasured and will never have again. I think that contributes greatly to our pain.
Jean Carr says
The one thing about dogs, which I think you have mentioned before, is that they don’t get angry with us, or at least not very easily. So it is always win-win. I feel as though I let Bailey down when I don’t take her on a long ramble, but she never holds it against me. This is in contrast to cats. I had one cat who chewed one hole in each of my sweaters when I went away for the weekend.
It is just unbearably hard to lose them.
Cindy Hinsch says
Patience for me is the most challenging so God gave me one of the most challenging dogs of my life time at 59 years of age.
I do own a couple of strong character traits like perseverance and love.
Having the loving company of a dog to exist with in my favorite place …my home as a single person, has meant life itself for me through three very divinely appointed K9 companions in the past three decades since 30 years of age. Cha cha through my 30s, Rumba in my forties into my fifties. Sadly Samba for 3.5 years from my age of 55 to 59.
As a matter of fact I insisted on sanova well I have now at 60 years old because her history and resemblance of Samba labels are meant to be in my mind. I felt this was God’ choice for me as well.
I have rescued all of these four dogs mentioned. I had a great experience living with a roommate and her German Shepherd back in the 80s, so I have always rescued shepherd mixes ever since. The last two …Samba and Sanova being pure German shepherds …white in color were both rescued from puppy mills .They were Mama’s breeding under very thoughtless conditions.
For Me and My Dawgs allow me to develop my character they make me a better person as I tend to their needs to be part of a pack … Though it is just myself and one dog companion at a time.
They Foster my independent freedoms and I nurture theirs. The patience that I have had to refine as I encourage Sanova to accept civilization reminds me how important it is to accept other humans ability to cope with civilization too considering the environment in which they have been raised as well.
Being aware of love and what it can conquer is what my dogs have always meant to me.
Thank you so much for your guidance and your heart Patricia. It has been a lifeline for Sanova as I practice your instruction.
We have been together 16 months and I discovered your no Force training technique through a reference from my local behaviorist named Mannette Kohler. I have two of your books and your audiobook for the love of a dog. These are also heaven sent. A Divine appointment for Sanova and me. Sanova and I hope to meet you someday as well.
In the meantime I still have to prepare her. She still wants nothing to do with anybody but me. Time is the most valuable for us and in time we’ll be fine.
Patience, I am learning so much about patience♥️
Thank you again Trisha!
Sincerely Cindy and Sanova
patrick says
Beautifully stated and one to remember.It meshes perfectly with the wonderful book I’m reading “Deep Creek” by Pam Houston.Her love for animals trans
cends all other aspects of her life.
patrick says
Beautifully stated and one to remember.It meshes perfectly with the wonderful book I’m reading “Deep Creek” by Pam Houston.Her love for animals transcends all other aspects of her life.
Wanda Jacobsen says
Wonderful blog. Thank you. We love our dogs because they are huge hearts wrapped up in soft, warm fur. On top of that, they make us laugh. Our Irish terrier, Quinn, is often just a red colored ‘stinker’! He loves sneaking a shoe, showing us he has it and then the game of “Keep Away” begins! This morning I heard the back door closet door open. Me: “Quinn opened the closet door. You know what that means.” Husband, going around the corner to ‘protect’ his shoes, bursts out laughing. “Quinn, just peeked from behind the closet door to see if I was coming.” Me: “He knows he’s being a little sh*t.” Only Quinn can make us laugh out loud first thing in the morning before we have to go off to work. What is a better send off than a mischievous dog? A good laugh can beat a cup of coffee every time!
grandma says
I wonder if it has to do with being born into a home with dogs/cats already? I was..one of my first memories is a dog’s face against mine, the cold nose evidently didn’t bother me. Now all my children have dogs in their homes because that is the way they grew up, just as I did. And those who did not have that wonderful experience…they rarely have dogs themselves. Interesting, right? Their loss….dogs are just wonderful, that’s it!
Cheryl Cornett says
This was absolutely breath taking in it’s clarity, conviction, and simple truths. I recently had to say good-bye to a very, *very* special dog… and I am still driven to my knees at times when I think of her and how much I miss her. A friend sent me a quote that has helped: “The loss is immeasurable, but so is the love left behind.”
Honey Loring says
Hi Trisha,
I feel for you, losing your heart-of-heart dog. Only time makes it bearable, at least that’s the way it’s been for me. Great pictures that say it all.
My “take” on why we love dogs so much is from the late Caroline Knapp in her book “Pack of Two – The Intricate Bond Between People and Dogs”. In this book she talks about the unconditional love she feels for her dog, the kind of love that knows no fear or hurt, unlike loving a human. I myself like feeling loving even more than being loved, so that made sense to me.
Lynda Costello says
You are always so articulate and so often say what I’ve felt, both the joys and the heartache of being owned by my dogs.
Thank you so much!
liz says
Some many years ago there was a program on WPR about loneliness… John Cacioppo, a Professor/Researcher who focused on loneliness and developed the field of social neuroscience, offered something that stopped me in my tracks:
Paraphrasing, to the best of my memory, he stated that cortisol peaks in humans during late night and early morning hours when we perceive ourselves as isolated. That it is during those times we have been most vulnerable historically, and therefore reliant on “the pack” for our own well being.
Whoa, right? Sort of opened the floodgates of thought for me. And of course I wondered if dogs, being social mammals, would experience similar peaks in cortisol during actual or perceived isolation…
When you ponder something for many years, as evident by this wonderful blog, there is such richness there. I look forward to adding this into the mix. On that note, perhaps there is some historical element to our bond with dogs that is a primal comfort. Perhaps that because there species has been integral to our own, we can feel it on an unconscious level. And since we have worked with dogs remotely in a variety of contexts, like shepherding or guarding, we have a bond that transcends physical space more so than our bond with humans. The knowledge of their presence, wherever that might be, is a salve to us in anxious moments.
When they leave this earth, however, we know they are gone. We feel it more acutely because their presence had previously defied time and space… quite unreal. So sorry for you and Will.
Mary Beth Stevens says
Wow! Such wisdom and insight from every last one of you! Thank you, all. I am late to life with getting dogs, but losing a beloved cat 5 years ago taught me that I had never truly understood the definition of “heartbroken.”. Now with two dogs who make my heart stop with overwhelming love for them, I dread the inevitable day we say goodbye. With our cat I used to think, “well, when she goes we’ll just get another one.” She went, and I realized that there simply IS no replacement. Not only is that animal gone, but so is that unique relationship, not to mention (as was so well-articulated by a reader above,) that period of our lives. No wonder we mourn! But my husband and I are of the same mind – when one goes, we will start looking for another dog and set out on creating another relationship.
Miriam Tworek-Hofstetter says
Another aspect (maybe already commented on above) is dog as best friend/companion/partner. My dog passed away on April 1st of this year, and so much of what I miss is how he prioritized being right next to me, or at least on the other side of the door, even in his final days. If I couldn’t sleep, he would get up with me to hang out in the living room. Or if I went out to the garden in the backyard, he would come with me and chew the nearby grass. Every mundane thing had a joyful purpose when he was there.
I’m so sorry you lost Willie, and I am also so grateful that you are sharing your grieving process with us. I had no idea how hard it could be.
LisaW says
I love thinking about why we love our dogs so much. I keep thinking about something I read in Caroline Knapp’s book, A Pack of Two. It was a passage about how we use our dogs as allies to send messages to someone else. For example, “Spot, tell Mr. Grumpy that you need to go out but would like him to apologize to me first.” It was funny and true. My dogs are my allies in life in ways they didn’t opt in for but I wholly rely on. I always think they are or will be on my side (while not always by my side 🙂
I also think I love the dogs that are harder cases. Take our two current dogs – I love Phoebe, the peacenik, lunk-head, but not in that achingly can’t-imagine-life-without-you way. (She’s got Pavlov’s hierarchy of need instead of Maslow’s.) I am thankful for all the things she’s taught me (she brought me here to this community), and I’ll be pondering for many years the things she’s brought that remain beyond my ken. We’re close but not so emotionally tied into one another.
Olive, the anxious, heart-of-a-terrier dog, lives in me and with me in ways that will wrench me apart when she‘s not here. She is tuned in ways that are hard to explain. It’s part the trials and tales we’ve been through, part the things we’ve taught each other, part feelings of amazement and agony when I look at her, and part deep sympatico.
We humans also have that lovely coping mechanism that allows up to remember the good while most of the bad recedes to a subterranean place in our brain. When a new dog comes into my life, I never think how hard it will be when they die. I think of how much fun we’ll have now!
Also, I just want to thank you. I know how easy it is to slip away in grief. Thanks for keepin’ on with all of us.
Sue says
I feel so at ease with my border collies. I am only completely open, honest and my true unguarded self when working, trialing or hanging out with them.
That’s unimaginable to expect in human interactions, at least in my lifetime.
widogmom says
Peace and healing to you, and to us all.
Tonya says
Somewhere I saw the term used in reference to their dog, “platonic partner.” I think there’s an element of that, too. At least for some of us single (sort of by choice) and childfree (totally by choice). My once in a lifetime dog is the partner that goes with me everywhere. We have give and take. He gets swim time even when I’m cold because he needs it, and when I’m unwell, he will sleep next to me for far more hours than he would typically. We share each other’s language – although he learned to speak English sooner than I learned to speak dog. While I can’t necessarily know when he’s is pain, I have a good grasp on his needs and anthropomorphizing, maybe, it feels like he knows when I need him to do something ridiculous to make me laugh as well. I mean, yeah, I have to do all the cooking and cleaning, but that’s not atypical in partnerships either. He does a fine job of prewashing the dishes, so there’s that.
I’ve not had a human partner, parent, or child die. I’ve been through the deaths of three of my own and two senior foster dogs, and those relationships had variations of the child/parent theories. Each was different, partly due to where I’ve been in life but also how I bonded with the dog. With the heart dog, my platonic partner, watching him grow old faster than I can take must be what it’s like knowing, as you perfectly phrased, that the oxygen will be pulled from the air, when one’s life mate of the human kind is going to die.
Sending hugs to you. We’ve cried together through Luke and Willie, even if you didn’t know it.
Kathy Stepp says
I agree with everything you’ve stated in this blog. I have an additional thought. I do many performance things with my dogs. Those various events have created wonderful friendships and so much plain old fun. I spend many joyful (OK sometimes less than joyful) hours training my dogs alone, training with friends, and participating in various dog events. The loss of a well trained team mate is also painful. All that love and a talented, good natured partner in the game of my choice. There really is nothing like it and losing that impacts almost every aspect of every day.
Steve says
Well said!
Maggie says
Just over a week ago I had to make decision to end one of my dogs life. It was so sudden, he was suffering and there was no way to cure him. I still cannot believe it happened. Yes, I agree that dogs are like my children, my best friends and my teachers. They thought me so much about emotions. Sky, who is no longer with us was my teacher on asertiveness, setting up boundaries and protecting ourselves. He thought me that patience brings trust and love. These are the things that parents should teach their children and I have learned them from my dog. I miss him so much…
Andy says
I can very much relate to both loving a vulnerable animal, and feeling love from that animal. But I’m not sure I feel the love is unconditional, and increasingly I’ve come to love dogs for their tanrums, their gleeful thievery, and their willingness to experiment with(on?) us to see if they can get something cool to happen by manipulating our behavior. Like a lot of my dog nut peers, I love naughty dogs.
Cecil most definitely fits the bill. He yells at me for being in the bathroom too long. He – cat-like – knocks things off the bedside table and looks at me as if to say, “whatcha gonna do about it, Dad?” All these little habits that drive me nuts and land him even more securely in my heart. Why is that? Is there a clear evolutionary explanation? Maybe like a happy parent admiring his kid’s newfound confidence?
He’s almost eleven, and I’ve lately found myself saying to my friends, “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him. It’s going to f*** me all up.” And it’s true. I’m sorry your dealing with that now, Trisha, and thanks so much for sharing your meditations on grief with us. They helped me a lot when I lost Duchess and I know they will help me again in the future.
Dixie Tenny says
Trisha,
I am so very sorry for your loss. I only just heard, and have been reading back and catching up. Keeping you in my heart.
Your post reminded me of a short one I put up a few years ago, when my darling Arrow was nearing the end of his life. Just in case you want to have a look, here it is. http://dreamdogcentral.com/2016/12/17/our-ever-changing-relationships-with-our-dogs/
Much love from Dixie
Chelsea Wood says
Something I always come back to when I think about the unique kind of love that exists between humans and dogs (me and my dog in particular) is the intimacy of communicating without words. Think about your romantic partner or your best friend–these are the people that we can talk to with just * a look.* It’s a special kind of closeness that is developed and earned over time. I feel the same way about my relationship with my dog. It feels amazing, wonderful and special that I can tell my dog I love her with just a touch and a look and truly feel that she gets my message. And it goes both ways. When she does her doggy version of a hug (pushing the top of her head into my chest to get as close as possible) I feel that message just as clearly: I love you.
Joanne Singer says
I have lost three since the beginning of 2019 and have another who is 17 and probably won’t be around much longer. The losses are almost killing me. I have found it necessary to practically shut down my emotions because they are just too hard to deal with. I still cannot look at the place on the couch where little Roy (papillon), the smartest dog I have ever encountered used to sleep. The agony is bone deep and tears come for no reason other than the mention of their names. Perhaps time will do the healing.
AnnaLisa says
I think that the noble elements of this notion are true enough, that as social mammals, we are programmed to want to feel accepted, because acceptance is safety, access to resources, and security. This is true for all social mammals–rejection often equals death in the wild–animals that don’t form a mating pair and find a territory typically do not live as long as mammals that do. Canids are programmed for social maneuverability that seeks balance–wolves avoid confrontation when they can and get along in order to survive, and when they can’t avoid confrontation (or choose not to) they avoid prolonged struggle. In the wild, cooperation is about efficiency, and even in conflict, the death blow to another wolf is often ‘humane’ in that it is quick and causes minimal suffering because a less accurate blow leaves a wolf that can fight back, and cause the attacker suffering.
This is all to say, canids evolved to efficiently maneuver among other members of their species that would as soon kill them as ignore them. Not getting along means death, directly or indirectly (through isolation, lack of access to resources, etc). Along come human beings, another species of violent mammal that likely killed many of the early canids that didn’t learn how to maneuver around them. But soon enough, canids figured out how to maneuver around, and effectively manipulate human beings, even as we imagined ourselves to be shaping them through breeding, we were working from a foundation of members of a species that chose to get close enough to us, and survive long enough, to be domesticated.
Over time, the things that human and canine wanted evolved away from literal well-being and more toward emotional well-being, as survival became less of a factor and both species gained the wild liberty afforded by almost assured survival, resources, etc. Humans, being cowardly at their core, have largely culled any canines that would threaten them, even when they were being quintessentially human (read: flawed, impatient, volatile, unstable, even violent). In a wild pack, an unstable leader who is unnecessarily violent is typically taken down sooner, rather than later (I can think of one particular case of a gratuitously violent and even cruel she-wolf who was the alpha of her back until the pack finally had enough of her seeking out and killing foxes, coyotes, etc just for being nearby, and got tired of her constantly menacing them–her sister killed her, with the support of the rest of the pack, and raised her pups as her own). But humans have left almost exclusively non-confrontational members of the canine species, who will tolerate our flaws and even in some sad cases, our abuse, without ever raising a paw in self defense. In the worst case, we have created the perfect victim, but in kinder environments, we have created a completely accepting companion that never rejects us, and also, conveniently, knows just how to manipulate us. We love dogs so much for the same reasons that we do not deserve them: most are without guile (trustworthy), they make us feel safe, because we trust them, they seem to truly adore us (as this element is clearly key to their continued survival among humans, the more dogs that behave this way and survive because of it, the more dogs that will be made with this obsequious aspect), and they are completely in our thrall. We say whether they live or die, whether we want to or not–something that is not true of any human children or parents…typically.
Human relationships are complicated by human desires, and while dogs may be just as selfish as any human (I have a female dog that truly only cares about what she is getting, but still manages to perform endearance rituals to get by), our memories of them are not complicated by things they have said to us, times they have chosen not to spend time with us when we wanted to spend time with them, times when they weren’t there when we needed them, or times they did not help us when we needed help, as human relationships often are. This is partly because we understand the limitations of dogs (they can’t give us a ride to the airport) and partly because they are essentially our very-loved prisoners. They can’t reject us, and they are bred to defer to us over many generations. They come into our lives younger than us, and helpless, and often leave our lives older and wiser than us, but still helpless. We watch the entire spectrum of their lives from infancy to geriatric years with a small bit in the middle where they are full of life and independent, but mostly, they need us–they are the only animal in the world that operates this way, really. Some cats may need human help, but most figure out how to survive on the streets without it, if they must. Horses can go back to surviving in the wild fairly easily, if the necessary resources are at hand, but dogs we have bred into helplessness–some can survive if they get lost, but mostly they come back emaciated, covered in ticks, and just generally in terrible shape.
This is a long way to say, that yes, I think you are on to something, and I am so sorry you are dealing with this. Even in their last moments, our dogs want to please us, and it’s up to us to smile and be strong, and tell them that they are a good boy because we have come to care about their happiness above all, as their happiness is our own. They are mirrors into our success as human beings. I have never met a good person that was not liked by dogs, or a bad person that was (and I mean, objectively–the people that our office dogs did not like or who did not like dogs ended up going on to be in trouble with the law or just untrustworthy). They are a litmus test of whether we are balanced and true.
I adopted a senior dog from a shelter in NY just before he was slated for euthanasia. He was somewhere between 8-10. He had the worst clinical separation anxiety I have dealt with, to this day (and was truly cured by your “I’ll be Home Soon” pamphlet, though he did need drugs to even begin behavioral modification, he did not need them forever). The ONLY thing he cared about in the entire world was where I was, and cheese. If there was cheese in the room he did not care where I was and would leave me in a second–he was always allowed to leave me, but I was not allowed to leave him. Even though I had him for over 7 years, a whole second life, and even though he did allow me to leave him sometimes, I always worried about being there when he passed. This was the most important thing to me so that he did not feel his worst fear had been realized–that I was gone when he died and he was abandoned. He was diagnosed with congestive heart failure, and we had a little over a year of successful management and anticipatory grief before he finally re-entered heart failure and we had to say goodbye. During this year, I made herculean efforts to give him the one thing he wanted: my undivided attention. I took him everywhere. I did not travel. I traveled out of state for one overnight trip for a friend’s wedding and he deteriorated significantly. Any longer and he likely would not have survived–since his personality and his need to control/approve of my whereabouts caused him a great deal of stress and stress exacerbated his heart condition.
Thankfully, at the end, I was there with him. Just me. Family members stopped by to say goodbye before he went. But no other dogs were present (though that may have helped them, it was very time sensitive and it would simply have added stress for him). In his last moments, it was the two of us together, him staring at me with the pure devotion I did not deserve, us face to face as he closed his eyes on this world, me smiling and telling him he was a good boy, giving him my full and undivided attention, until he was gone, and I was allowed to be sad, for I felt I owed it to him to be happy that he was there as long as he was there and this was HIS final time to be made as easy and pleasant as I could make it.
It was a great relief to me to be able to be there with him, because I knew that was all that he wanted, though I can’t say I ever want a dog that obsessed with my whereabouts again as that is a lot of pressure and strain, it was easy to give him the only thing he cared about, in the end.
To this day (this was two years ago, now) I cry at this memory. The moment is frozen in time, and the pain lives encapsulated and preserved as fresh as it was on that day. I wish I could say it gets better, but it does not. In a way, it is a gift–a bloom of the love that grew. But it would be good if someone could truly figure out WHY dogs affect us the way that they do so that we can learn to live with the pain of their passing in a healthier way that evolves over time. “Knowing” that the soul goes on, knowing that they passed peacefully, knowing that we were there for them…it doesn’t quite seem to be enough in the face of their absence.
Even when, a year later, I found a 7 week old puppy in a vacant lot that looked uncannily like him, that brought my two remaining dogs back together in a way that only he had (he was truly the glue that held the three together), that exhibited some eerily similar traits to him, my stupid human brain still sometimes focuses on what is missing, and how much it hurt to lose, even if somehow, it has returned. Even more interesting, perhaps, is that this puppy would have been born a year after he passed, to the day.
This is a long, rambling way of saying, we have created for ourselves the perfect way to break our hearts, but the joy and reciprocity of love in the meantime leads us to repeat the pain, time and again. We are gluttons for punishment, and gluttons for love.
Melissa Stone says
Tricia,
Thank you for putting this into words. Whenever I’ve had an old dog, I pray, “God, make it hard on me and easy on them.” God has never disappointed. My last boy, Laddie, a big Smooth Collie, passed in November. I lay with him and cupped my had gently around his nose, hoping I could convey a small final comfort through this keenest of all dog senses. When his chest rose … and fell for the last time, I was gutted. “I take it back, God! Give him to me for just a bit longer.” But, a deal is a deal and Laddie went to join Molly, Teddy, and Jaffa. I believe each of their everlasting spirits were reborn into a new puppy. I watch them.
Minnesota Mary says
Really amazing insight – dogs provide both the same type of love as a child and a parent. It is both a simple and a profound insight.
I would add that some dogs get further into your heart than others. I love all my dogs, even the problem foster dogs. But my elder dog (14.5 year old husky) was the one with whom I volunteered as a pet therapy team with hospice patients every week for 7 years. The bond I have with this dog far surpasses the love I have had for my other dogs who have passed, and for my younger dog who I’m training to take over this wonderful volunteer activity.
Every day I remind myself to treasure and appreciate the time I have with my elder husky. I’m so fortunate to have him in my life and blessed to have the means to continue to provide rehab (hydrotherapy) weekly, pain relief and physical therapy exercises at home. Without these, he would be unable to enjoy his remaining days. He would be unable to go on walks and would be in a lot of pain. With the things I am able to provide, he is relatively pain-free and still enjoys a mile-long walk twice daily. If I could, I would do more for him!
His spirit is so gentle and loving, and his heart so giving. I don’t know what I will do when he has to leave someday. What I can do is love him with all my heart every day he remains here with me!
Judy Hiller says
I have loved and lost many dogs over the past 45 years, but have been prepared to cope with their eventual loss and my need to make sure I do not selfishly prolong their suffering, so I accept my responsibility at the end of their lives. I was thus unprepared for the devastating sadness last year when I had to choose euthanasia for my “just” nine year old. Surgery had not only not helped her, it had moved her pain to an intolerable level and it broke my heart to hear her scream in pain…I could not allow her to live with that excruciating pain. I knew it was the right choice, but I just did not expect that loss to affect me so deeply for so long. I have loved all of my dogs, but this one lingers a year later in a way that none have before. Maybe it is MY age and knowing I won’t have many more chances to love new dogs, but the depth of sadness is very real and the “missing” her part feels the same as it did a year ago.
Kat says
I wish I could remember the author or even the title of the book but those are lost in the vaults of memory; what has stayed with me is the description that losing a dog is akin to an amputation. Everyone else in my life has an independent existence that is separate from me. My dogs are the best part of me and in a very real sense extensions of me. I love the idea that they are at the same time parent and child corollaries. Thank you for a beautifully thoughtful blog.
Nic1 says
Wow, this makes so much sense on a gut level.
I’ve had a puppy in my life for one week (just temporarily) since my girl passed last year and already life feels much more complete on a very primal level that I find hard to articulate, yet you have done so on this blog so profoundly while mourning and feeling intense grief for your beloved companion, Willie.
We are wired for connection, but the complexity of our human relationships offers me only a certain level of satisfaction on an emotional level. The intrinsic sense of joy and the feeling of everything being right with the world when we love a dog and they love us back is something very special. I also think that our love for dogs perhaps unconsciously helps connect human beings to care for each other more. They seem to enable us to be more empathetic with each other: we have all made so many acquaintances and friends with other humans and dogs out on walks that we ordinarily wouldn’t have done so without the presence of our canine companions; charities exist that care for homeless people’s dogs, e.g. Dogs on the Streets, understanding that their canine companions are instrumental in some people’s wellbeing and indeed, reason to stay alive; their presence in working environments can reduce stress, promote feelings of wellbeing and deepen professional bonds to enable better teamwork, not to mention the astonishing diversity of their utility as colleagues and service dogs due to their incredible primary sensing abilities and our ability to work as a multi species team. The documentary series on Netflix called ‘Dogs’ had some great stories about dogs increasing empathy in humans, including one story of how people caught in a war zone moved heaven and earth to reunite one man and his dog.
I don’t believe in God but I do believe in Dog. (I think Julie Hecht said this?) 🥰 As you have previously described, our relationship with them is a miracle of biology.
Deb McGrath says
You are such a positive, compassionate, intuitive, empathetic and insightful human being…and the way you articulate and share each of these insights, and yourself, is what keeps me coming back for more…and believe me when I say I have read dozens of books on dog behavior, training, and human/canine interaction, but none come close to helping me to better understand how best to be the “person my dogs believe me to be.” Definitely a work in progress, but I am loving the journey due to people like you helping me to navigate this amazing relationship with my Hooligans.
Thank you!🐾💕👣
gail lilly says
I lost a beloved dog almost two years ago. Not the first loss by any stretch, but a very hard one.
Cotton, my dobie girl, and I, did a lot of staring at each other. I would look at her and feel: ” I love you Cotton” and she would look as if she understood. Sometimes if I was preoccupied because of anxiety or worry, she would come over and lie down by my chair. There was a lot of unspoken communication using eyes, heart and touch, no spoken words. Authentic communication sent and received. A head on my shoulder while driving, a look from across the room to check to see if I saw her there, to see if we were still connected. Connected from the inside out. Nothing contrived, no ornamental appointments, just two beings together in their respective devotion to the other. How can that not be woefully missed.
Lisa Herman says
Beautiful article.
I lost my beloved dog almost a year ago. He was a rescue, my first dog as an adult and my soul mate. I worked very hard to learn his language, to understand him and partner with him (your books were so incredibly helpful Patricia) and in return he gave me his complete devotion and his heart. Every dog is a unique expression of his species and I think there is something very transcendent about training and working with dogs and animals (I have horses and have loved and lost them as well). When I see a behavior that is so clearly from the purpose and integrity of their social order it really impresses me to want to be a better human being and when I see my dog really trying and being patient and in control of his natural desires and still trying to always be happy it inspires me to do the same. Dogs remind me that there is so much more than being merely human and they inspire me to be so.
In this very mundane world it is incredibly fulfilling to be able to sit in silence with your dog, to know him and be in complete communication with him and to remember that being alive and together in a pack is one of the happiest, best and most important thing in life. Death tears that away and it is the worst pain.
Kiara says
I’m not as eloquent when writing as you are (especially not when Im on using my phone).
I have an elderly dog and my parents have our elderly family cat. So I am trying to prepare myself mentally for the inevitable.
I think there is a bit more to our relationship with pets than just a primal nurturing need.
My elderly dog has been with me since my late teens. When I think back on our relationship I think about how much she has changed my direction and my identity. How I’ve grown and developed over that time. I think about the hard times Ive had and how she was my support, the only one who I was prepared to verbalise my darkest, scariest fears or desires etc. I identify with her personality and see similar traits in myself. I have a younger dog with a very different personality and I identify with some of his traits in my own personality too – particularly when I am at work.
I think we incorporate our pets as part of our identity. They are the experiences we have, and they are involved in our processing of external experience, both of which lead us to our understanding of our sense of self, and how our sense of self has changed during the course of their lives. When we lose a pet it is like losing part of our identity.
We nurture and love children and family and friends but they have their own identities and personality and live external lives to ourselves.
Just my thoughts.
I am sorry for your loss Trish. I have followed you and Willie for many years. It was sad to hear the news that he had passed.
Carolyn says
How to get past the grief or in other words why do we get dogs knowing one day they will put us through potentially the hardest emotional trauma in our lives? I think it is purely a serotonin thing, well largely a serotonin thing. I have never had a child but I have heard that the serotonin rush after a baby is born is so strong that women are willing to go through labor more than once. And I think getting a new dog is literally like falling in love with a new romantic partner. Finding and having a dog that bring us joy provides frequent and or constant feel good hormones and we become addicted to it.
Last year a family Golden (belonged to my dad) came to live with us after I lost my 13 1/2 year old Golden girl. My new girl has Nutritionally Mediated Dilated Cardiomyopathy from eating a grain free food before she came to live with us. She could die at any moment yet I still really really wanted her to come live with us. I needed another Golden in the house as I had become quite irritable downcast.
I believe that physiologically and psychologically we are programmed to discount and forget emotional trauma when it comes to forming attachment bonds. With the dangerous world that humans evolved in where losing children and romantic partners was common, being willing and even wanting to form more attachments was essential to the species survival.We are serotonin junkies and dogs are our drug of choice.
Suzanne Brunner says
I was so sorry to hear of your loss. I lost my black lab , Vinny, just a few weeks after I lost my husband. Vinny was such a good dog during my husband’s long illness and losing him hit me so hard it was unimaginable. I was puzzled about why I was so paralyzed by this loss. I finally realized that he was the only one in my life who knew and understood the rhythm of my days. Not even my own children knew what I did as soon as I got up in the morning, prepared meals or relaxed after dinner. Vinny knew and understood and he was happy to be there for all of it.
Toni cramer says
I am 65 yrs old and have had border collies my entire adult life. I love this breed for their intelligence, mischief, eccentricities, and clarify (relatively) in communication. I have always trained them to be excellent family members first – and was shredded when each passed. Then I plunged in to the world of perforce sports. First flyball racing. Now herding. Hours of training, games, traveling to tournaments and trials. The depth of love for these competition dogs is no more or less, I think, than he family dogs before them. But I was totally unprepared for the loss of my first trained competition dog. 2016. And I cannot write this comment without crying and feeling shattered. I have pondered why? The answer I have come up with thus far is that there is a qualitative difference in the bond and relationship that forms. All have been excellent family dogs. Both categories – significant training. But a sport requires more. More communication under stress. More trust and belief in my dog. More of a training stretch on my part. Every day. Every week. Every road trip and experiencing new things together. I truly dread the loss of my retired flyball partner and cannot even imagine how crushing it will feel to let go of my herding partners. Just my thoughts.
dana schreiber says
the vet school used to have a grief group twice a month for people who had lost their pets.. I couldnt go because I worked, but I met privately with the person running the group.. her name was Myrna SOlganik, I think… anyway of all she said, one thing stood out… we know from the day we bring our new pet home, that we will likely outlive them.. and so we almost start grieving their loss and valuing their preciousness from day 1… I think that is a big part of it… on my 7th dog, wake up every morning hoping they will wake up also.. I feel I can lose them so quickly… I have never had children so I dont know if that is how parents feel.. I think not.. I think parents always expect their children to outlive them… not so with our pets… I think that is where the grief comes from so intensely.. we know we will lose them and that makes the connection more intense…
Katherine says
For those of us unfamiliar with the love that parents share with their children, I would add a dogs unparalleled sense of companionship. Perhaps it is their love that makes them want to be near us at every moment, waking and otherwise, but it is the companionship that makes the quiet moments worthwhile. They offer a togetherness without undue focus. Just being together in the moments of calm.
Kim Hart says
My husband and I have no children together. I have two adult children who have been selfish in their lives and truly awful to me. So our dogs are our children. Last year in February, we were walking our two dogs around our property, like we did every day, but this was early on a Sunday morning. Our cattle dog, Sammy, has been with us about two years from the same rescue we got Logan from. He was the product of a divorce. Husband got him I think because wife didn’t want him and then husband traveled and asked the lady that ran the rescue to sit for him when he traveled, allowing Sammy to come back and stay with her. One time he never came back for Sammy and quit returning her phone calls. We got him because Logan had severe separation anxiety, which we dealt with before with other dogs and we knew the only cure was a friend. Sammy was professionally trained and extremely smart. He would stop on a dime if you called him and could catch a tennis ball or frisbee no matter how hard you threw it. So we never worried about walking Sammy off leash on our property. But the entrance that we had to walk past during our circle around the trail, was right by a busy road. Sammy saw a woman walking her dog on the bike trail that ran along the other side of this road. As he took off I screamed no and began to run. I kept thinking it was early morning in a Sunday and maybe, just maybe no one would be on the road. Then I thought he would get to the pavement and I would see the sand kick up as he skidded to a stop before entering the road. But he didn’t. And when I realized he wasn’t going to stop, I turned my back and put my fingers in my ears. I couldn’t hear it. I knew I would never forget the sound. Instead I heard this primal wail come out of my husband and I turned begging to see Sammy on the other of that road barking hello to this lady and her dog. But he wasn’t there. Thank God for the trees that blocked my view of the side of the road. Thank God it was quick and we didn’t have to hear or see him in terrible pain and then make a decision. But at that moment I fell to my knees and let out my own primal scream. For the next weeks, we clung to each other in what I can only assume must be close to what people feel like when they lose a child. There are those that will read that comment in anger, but I can tell you Sammy made me feel more important and more loved in the two years he was with me, than the 38 years my children have been in this world. It has been hard to forgive myself for not leashing him that day. A mistake I will never make again. I feel like a part of me died that day. I hope he knows how sorry I am I didn’t protect him enough.
Jann Becker says
When we were afraid Kira might have hemangiosarcoma it almost brought us closer as a couple; I didn’t realize how much my husband cares about her! We were both subdued with anticipatory grieving, and even though that path report was negative it made us realize that at 10, she won’t be here forever.
I felt that something that would carry her off swiftly would actually be better than the lingering suffering some of our other dogs have endured. Sometimes we don’t realize till it’s over that we hung on too long. Where Willie was concerned it was obviously time, and I almost hope that that will be true for her too.
On a lighter note, it’s a darn good thing they don’t shop for their own food…Porterhouse steak, with broccoli every night?
Marilyn says
I think that at this time in history in particular, we are getting pulled away from people relationships and the companionship we have with our pets helps to fill that void. And – pets are so much easier to get along with.
Cathy says
So beautifully said. I remember discussing the death of one of my dogs to cancer with a group of friends. In the course of conversation, I said, “In the beginning I thought I would not survive.” The silence that followed and looks on their faces told me they thought that was an extreme reaction, but it was honestly how I felt . I was grieving and my dear mother who had dementia was suffering Becca’s death, too, but she asked me multiple times a day where the dog was. Needing to repeat that so often deepened a grief that was already bottomless or so it seemed at the time.
Heidi Rosin says
Nailed it – as usual so I’m not surprised. How timely but since Saturday morning my higher power has been putting the right people places and things in my life to keep me and my husband going. Our Tessie girl had been in full remission from immune mediated hemolytic anemia for a year after a hard fought (for all of us physically emotionally mentally and financially) battle. We treated every day as a gift knowing it could be her last and Saturday morning – having shown no symptoms of relapse at all – going for her walk playing with Malaki eating etc – she began labored breathing at 6 and by 8:45 was gone with help from the vet to speed things along. Needless to say Jeff and I are angry and devastated – his quote as he sobbed still Sunday night – it’s like someone ripped my soul out and shot a hole through it – she was daddy’s girl and he did hang the moon for her. I am grief-stricken as well but almost more for Jeff than Tess’s passing.
Fortunately when Tess’s brother Osh died last year Osh and God picked out and put Malaki in our lives. He is the child we need to keep living for and at the same time the child keeping us alive and bringing us joy when we feel as if there is none to be had. So again – you put your wisdom on the pulse of our relationship with dogs. My four-legged children (and I have no two-legged) are my tangible evidence of a higher power and I thank God for that.
Thank you for posting this today – it was what I needed.
Alex says
I’m so sorry Tricia. I cry tears for you and Willie every time I come back to this.
I think you have a beautiful and unique perspective on dogs as a combination of child and parent. As others have kinda mentioned, I’d add that they also have components of our spouses or life partners. As best friends, constant companions, cuddle buddies, and confidants. So in that way they embody aspects of the three dearest family members in our lives: child, parent, and life partner.
Colleen says
Great blog and insight into our deep love for dogs. I believe we can have that incredible bond with just about any species of animal because they “see” us and make us feel loved in a crazy world of demands and expectations. As a veterinarian, owner of a practice and a training center, and a mother and grandmother many times (even since childhood) I feel like people only notice me when they want something. We all sort of go through life just “doing” for each other which leaves us lacking in feeling loved and wanted simply because we exist. This is the type of love we all talk about…unconditional. Animals provide this because they “see” us. They don’t care if we play ball, go for a walk or lounge in front of the tv. They simply enjoy us for being us. This is a glimpse into the type of love God provides for us and we see it and feel it through our animals. It’s hard to ever get it from humans because of expectations, hurts, miscommunications, etc but our animals openly share it. This is why there is such a deep loss when our pet passed. It is why I absolutely believe animals are in heaven. I think God shares them on earth to show us a glimpse of what his love is like, truly unconditional. We are so privileged to share our life with every single one of them. Many days they are what keep me going because they are what give me purpose.
Christine Johnson says
You have really struck a chord here, reading through all these responses. I too have loved and lost dogs in my life, but nothing has brought home to me their unending love and devotion as my little pack of three have done when my husband recently passed away. A strong healthy man in his 60’s felled by cancer so quickly I still can hardly believe he’s gone. Without my dogs I doubt I would have survived the deep pain and loss. They are so intuitive and comfort me so well. I lost my old one, his buddy, not long after I lost him. I am certain that Mr Bee stayed around until he was sure I would be all right. He was just shy of 17.
Thank you and hugs to you in your loss.
Trisha says
Oh Christine, I am so sorry. I think about my husband Jim dying and even just imagining it is unbearable. It astounds me really, how much pain we humans are able to fell… and then survive and even eventually thrive. I am so glad your dogs were there for you. Thanks for adding to the conversation.
Trisha says
Oh yes, I agree that our dogs must be in heaven with us. It amazes me that some people would think it was a place only for humans. How sad and tragic that would be.
Trisha says
Yes! Life partner too, you are absolutely right. That should be added to the mix. Companions, working partners for some of us… child, parent, partners. Wow, no wonder.
Trisha says
Oh Heidi, I am so sorry. Cyber hugs to you.
Trisha says
Oh god Kim, I am so sorry. I hope you can remind yourself that Sammy would forgive you in an instant. That’s part of why we love them so much, isn’t it?
lak says
My dog is the best part of my day, hands down, everyday. I took her with me to perform end of life care for my sister with ALS. After the funeral home came and removed my sister in a body bag my dog ran into the room I cared for my sister in, sniffed the bed, ran around both sides of the bed, checked the attached bathroom and closet, then came out and sat quietly by my side. Hands down, my dog is the best part of my day!
Barb Stanek says
I agree with you, Trish. I think you’re right about how dogs fill our need to nurture and be nurtured. I’ve read your post twice, wanting to add to the conversation and now knowing what exactly I want to say. But here’s a start.
As we all have, I’ve had dogs and lost dogs. I find that losing a dog is always an grief experience particular to that dog and our relationship. My last girl died a year ago in June. Yet she is with me daily and I miss her keenly. She was chronically ill for her whole life. For most of her life, the disease was under control and she lived a full, fun life.
As the human in this relationship, I do not seem to be getting less sad with time. I don’t cry as often and can now remember her with a smile. But the pain of losing this dog is still as sharp as ever and will not subside.
I don’t have an explanation for my feelings, although I’ve done my best to reason it out. Perhaps time will give me some insights. If so, I’ll send you a note.
Tamasin says
Love to you and all above. I agree that your synthesis is one of the most acute observations I’ve ever read about humans and dogs, a profound legacy of your dogs’ lives. As you dispatch this insight into the world, I hope that now and then you feel your gone-before loved dogs, and now Willie, reward your performance as they woof, “Good girl!” and send you a jackpot of licks on the breeze.
Suzie says
I grew up with dogs, but the first dog I got as an adult on my own was a lovely brave little Jack Russell mix. I rescued her when I was in my early 30’s and she was with me for 12 years, 11 of which I was single and lived alone. Pure and simple, she was my family. I would have listed her as an emergency reference where required on forms if I could have.
One day I noticed her breathing heavily, and by the end of that week she had succumbed to a very aggressive cancer that had no symptoms until it spread to nearly all of her organs and caused a hole to open in her lung (which caused the labored breathing).
I learned of the cancer at the emergency vet hospital where she had to be placed in an oxygen chamber. They discovered all of the tiny tumors throughout her body via ultrasound. I had held it together those past few days, knowing it was likely a very bad situation, but when I learned the gravity of it all I (a 46 year old woman at the time) burst out crying uncontrollably and sobbed to the emergency vet “but WHO is going to take care of me now!?”
Luckily the vet was trained in emergency situations and helped me pull myself together before I visited my dear dog. Your blog is the first time I’ve read about how their unconditional love nurtures us – it is a two-way street. It is so very, very true. I always prided myself on being an independent, single woman…but I have still not recovered from losing my Mamma Lucy (as I called her) who not only loved me unconditionally, but nursed me when I was sick (she knew to roll up and warm my tummy to ease food poisoning cramps) and licked my tears away when I cried.
Kym says
Oh my did you nail it! I did not have the greatest family as a child – but my dogs always provided that unconditional love when I may have been missing it (or the feeling of it) elsewhere.
The more I learn to try to understand the dogs that I work with (and my own), the more I fall in love with this species!
Not only do they sit attentively when I cat spits to them, spilling my guts/frustrations/woes, etc., they do not offer unsolicited advice as many of my well-intentioned friends try to do. My dog listens, will never betray a secret, and just “is”. There is a trust in this that no human can earn in my heart.
That was my experience with my “good dog” whom I just recently lost and was/am still going through the motions because he helped me heal through the experience that was just as devastating from the “troubled dog” who I worked so hard to help. Reactive, fear aggressive, misunderstood, likely terrified of anything/everything…except me. Her utter dependence on me, her “broken spirit” that she entrusted with me…
She passed nearly 15 years ago but the affect she has had in my life will be with me every day.
Cathy B. says
I am sorry for your loss and know just how painful it is. I have lost two of my three dogs in 3 years. I don’t think that time will heal these wounds ever. I have lost both my parents within 7 months and in time the pain healed, but with my dogs, it has not. I have thought about this too, why we love them so much….and I think part of it is that dogs just love, they don’t really get angry with us, they don’t mistreat us ever, lie, cheat, say negative things to us and they never want us not there with them, they are always happy to see us, they simply love us so much. My dogs favorite place to be was with me…..it is a whole different level of unconditional love….there is nothing else like it. Loving them is so easy, losing them is the hardest thing to do.
Maureen Kilgour says
I just lost my fourth Golden Retriever, Gus da Silly Goose on 4/1/19. The air has been sucked out of my life and I am still drowning. Gus was a 17 month old rescue when we got him. He survived lymphoma for two years post chemo and a life threatening heart arrhythmia so when he got acute kidney failure we thought…”well he will beat this too.” To us surviving cancer had made him invincible. Well, kidney disease had other ideas. My poor boy got so sick and nothing I did for him worked. He would seem to climb the mountain and almost make it over and 20 minutes later he would slide back down. He was a therapy dog to mentally ill teenage girls for six years and to adults for 3. He was our companion every day for nine years, wherever we went, he went. He is irreplaceable. The black hole looms empty in front of us, yet we can’t imagine getting another dog that will mold to our lives instead of us molding to his as Gus did. You describe the connection perfectly…the fulfillment of a desire for unconditional love. Knowing that so many others understand has let a bit of oxygen into the room. I do hope that one day I won’t burst into tears at the mere mention of Gus’s name. Perhaps one day I will stop drowning in grief. I read you book The Other End of The Leash over and over, wonderful book.
Laura says
Looking forward to reading all of the comments, but I wanted to post my thoughts right away. Firstly, Good Girl Maggie! I’m so glad she’s doing well and is back to doing what she loves most. As for why we love dogs, Tricia, of course you articulated it beautifully, what they do for our brains and hearts. My thoughts are to echo that, but also add that I believe that we love them so much, because we made them. I’m, at best unimpressed, and at worst, heartbroken and disgusted by some of the terrible things humanity is capible of, and then I look at Seamus and it smacks me in the face once again, humans made him. We made him, and Maggie, and every other dog loved by every commenter on this blog. I believe it is why we are so facenated with them, why we work with them and have them in our lives. I believe we love anything we create, food, a garden, a baby, a handmade sweater or carved wooden table. Tricia, you love the photographs you take because you made them, hence, we love our dogs. Don’t get me wrong, we love cats too, but I don’t believe cats were domesticated in the same way, and you can correct me if I’m wrong on that, but there seems to be a distance there still, not the absolute closeness we share with dogs. They are our creation, from the paws up, and, like anything else that is created andloved,our heart longs only to be with the bloved forever. To get really personal, this is what inspires my belief in God. In a god who created me, and must love me infinitely more than I could ever know. The answer for me is, there must be a devine origin to this love, because where else does this joyful/painful love for all of the creatures in my life come from? Anyway, those are my thoughts. Now I have to go hug a wet dog. It’s raining here.
Allisa Whitt says
You hit the nail on the head. We lost our Golden just last Thursday 5/02/19 after being diagnosed with a tumor 3 1/2 months prior. Billy was 9 1/2 years old. He was our baby and he was extra special. See he was our daughter Leslie’s Service Dog and Leslie passed away in 2012 at the age of 24. She had only had Billy 11 months when she passed away and then we received Billy so he was only 3 years old at the time. We took extra special care of this boy. So, when he passed it was like losing our daughter all over again. Billy helped us through the grief of losing our daughter 6 1/2 years ago and now we are grieving the loss of both of them now. I don’t know how I can keep on going my heart is shattered. Someone said you feel like dying and yes I do. I just want to be with them. I don’t think anything or anyone will ever be able to heal my heart.
Erin says
I’m skipping down without reading all the other comments, so I apologize if this point has been made already. In addition to the unconditional love dynamic, there is another dimension of our relationship with a dog: the dog will protect you. My dog loves me and I love him, and we snuggle and play and all the fun stuff, but let an unknown human or dog approach me and my dog will place himself between me and the other one. He turns his back on me and prepares to defend me at any cost. That’s not childlike behavior.
ddemos says
I loved this piece so much because I have said it, almost verbatim, to my fellow dog lovers for years. I will say, it irks me so much when people say they hate people but love their animals, or that their dog is so much better than any person in their life.
I always say, not a fair fight…when your dog starts to give you hell for just being you and criticizes you for your perfume or your weight or your habits…then you have a fair fight.
Dogs do love us unconditionally and people do not. It’s that simple. I think it was FDR who said if you want a friend in Washinton…get a dog.
Amanda J Rawson says
O my, this story hit home for me. I had to put my girl, Karat, to sleep nearly a year ago, and I have been overwhelmed with grief ever since. I thought I was going to die when my boy, Keeper, died in 2005, two weeks before his 7th birthday. He was my first dog as an adult and he taught me so much about living with another being, one who loved without conditions. I look back and know he was sent to prepare me for Karat, who was with me for 13 years, 2 months and 10 days (not nearly enough). I don’t have a dog to help me with the grief, but know she is still with me. A hawk confirmed my decision and a hawk came to help Karat on that day. All was perfect, though that does not take away the pain of not having her presence with me.
Marcia Hartmann says
I read your blog with tears in my eyes as you stated so many things I’ve felt in the past year. We lost the BEST dog ever last May 15–unexpectedly– and are coming up on the year anniversary of her passing. Abby had my heart and took it with her and I still am grieving to this day. I search the clouds for her and when I see a cloud that looks like a Golden Retriever mix, I have to take pictures and think it’s her, watching over me. We have since lost our beloved dachshund, Dottie, just last week. Abby was only 11 when she died so unexpectedly–had NO clue anything was wrong until she went in to cardiac arrest when my husband carried her in to the emergency clinic that night. Dottie was 15 1/2 years old and we’d expected her passing at any point. While I grieve for that little girl now, that grief is nothing like I still feel for Abby. We do have another dog, rescued after Abby’s passing, and I pray every day that I will love Ellie as much as Abby and she will love me as much as Abby did. I love dogs for all the reasons you stated in the blog and as long as I am capable of caring for one, I’ll have a dog. They are truly the best gift God could have provided for mankind. Thank you for writing such a thoughtful, truthful accounting of why we love dogs so much.
Barbara says
I think a reason why we love dogs so much is because they fulfill our needs and desires by becoming what we need them to be. As a species, dogs are incredibly versatile – kind of like the Swiss Army knife of the animal kingdom. They herd sheep, protect flocks, do search and rescue, assist law enforcement, retrieve game, sniff out drugs, bombs, cancer, participate in field trials, do agility … the list goes on. Obviously not all dogs are mentally or physically able to do all those things but I think it’s their desire to be near us and their willingness to learn that has gotten them where they are. As for my dog Rocky, he doesn’t do any of the things listed above. What he does is greet me at the door with rear ended swaying and tail wagging. When I leave the house he lies down near the door and quietly awaits my return. (I know this because my husband told me.) He is always at my side but is never intrusive. We go for walks together and play together. He is a member of our family and is treated with love and care. At the end of the day, we sometimes invite him up on the bed and when he curls up between us, I think how lucky we are to have this sweet amazing animal in our lives. I can’t think of any other animal that fits so seamlessly and completely into our lives as do dogs. How can we not love them?
Lesley Osborn says
I have been opening up my heart and home to senior/special needs greyhounds for 30 years.
Over these vast years of love and devotion, the names and faces have changed, however, they each live on in my heart.
After losing my Mom 2 years ago (and, we had shared our lives together for 40 years) I have turned to my 2 rescued and adopted Galgos Espagnol (flown here to the USA from Spain) in, especially, difficult times which I am experiencing. They are absolute evidence of the increasing documentation of the emotional well being they bring to the people – pet bond. I have loved each and every one of my dogs; their rescue into a safe and loving forever home has always been my calling as it was my late Mom’s as well. Within 6 months of her passing, I lost 5 beloved seniors. The change in the family dynamics most definitely affects our dogs (especially, I believe, if they are seniors). My dogs are what keep me moving forward, especially in my writing career.
George says
Here some of my musing about little Tucker, equally close to my wife, who rescued him, and brought him into our household/kennel. Little Tucks and myself arose out of the same star dust… and but for my standing vertically and his walking horizontally parallel to the ground, our bodies were similarly made, mine lacking a tail. I marveled in how we were alike and different, the mix creating an entrancement and wonder and synergistic joy… We were fellow sojourners during this slice of time on the planet…his of unknown origin. We took countless journeys, neighborhood streets, parks, trails, beaches, . When on leash, there to oversee his safety… ceased to be a burden but a going forth and exploring together, he more often taking the lead and determining the extent.
I delighted in watching him trot along with his muscular little legs (so his vet commented), stopping to sniff at scents along the way. I miss his simply being himself, and the enjoyment he seemed to take in all the aspects of his life; and in the connection and I-Thou relationship, whether expressed in a look, waiting at the door, nestled in my lap. My grief at his absence is as wide as the wonder of his presence.
Mary Reed says
My deepest sympathies on your loss of Willie. I lost my first BC, my heart dog, in January of this year.
On the off chance that you are thinking about a puppy, there’s a nice litter (8 weeks old next Wednesday), of which 1 pup may still be available. Both parents have nice temperaments. The sire made it to the Canadian double lift finals last year at the age of 3, handled, but not owned, by Gordon Watt. The dam has a nice pedigree as well. Just a thought.
Terry Baer-Brooks says
So many layers- our dogs are so many things to us. You are so right, Trish- we love them with the fiercest sense of parental protection and delight in learning about the world through their eyes when they are puppies. We settle into what I think of as the “gravy days” when they grow into adult dogs. What I mean by that is this: we get to enjoy them in their prime health, share experiences without real concerns of impending health issues hanging over our heads. We just simply love and live with our amazing four footed family members, able to delight in each day with that blissfully blindered vision that our time together will go on and on. They give us the love of a best friend as well as the love that you described as the love of the parents many of us never quite got. When they grow white in the muzzle we share their pain and frustration of being able to do less, and make whatever accommodations they need to be comfortable and happy. We love our dogs so very much and for so many reasons. How can we not? Our lives together are a tightly woven tapestry. Each day a thread. They are with us every day, often more than anyone else in our lives. And when they are gone, when they die, we don’t simply feel grief. We have to try and learn how to re-navigate our days, our world without these amazing beings who have become so integral to every part of our lives. They see us at our worst, at our best, and everything in between. And they love us, they trust us through it all. We get to love them without the weights and expectations that can impact our other, human relationships. There truly can be a genuiness, a purity to our love with our dogs. They are our friends, our kids, our parents, they are our dogs. Thank you for sharing your grief and your tapestry with all of us. I am certain that as much as you love Willie, he felt the same, if not more. I am so very sorry for your immense loss.
Karen from Oregon says
Aww, I’m so glad Maggie is doing fine!
I had a tough childhood but I’m grateful my parents let us have pets. They filled a love void in my life and that love void has continued thru life after 2 failed marriages. I’ve only had a dog or 2 (or 3) since 2001 and there’s no love on earth greater!
My 2nd dog was named Silly Willy Billy but because my teenage son’s name was Will, we changed it to Dillon. He also had issues, having been abused as a pup. I somewhat managed it until he was about 8 and then nothing was working anymore so I made the difficult decision to put him down. I’ll never forget the look on his face when I left him that last time at the vet. I so loved that little guy but he bit everyone except for me.
After your Willie died I bought your book about him. I’ve been reading several chapters nightly and it’s quite absorbing. What a blessing that Willie and his trials helped you come to terms with stuff from your past. Someday I will read all of your books…I always learn so much from them!
Blessings to you in your healing from your great loss.
Cheryl says
I don’t know why dogs (horses, cats, etc.) mean so much to us, and I don’t care. I only know they do, and some things can’t be fully or accurately explained or understood. Because I’m old, I’ve had many, many dogs share my life. (I’ve always made it a policy to have multiples) My most recent loss was just two weeks ago and while I was deeply saddened, it didn’t gut me on the same level as some of my other losses have. And that was no fault of hers (she was truly a heart dog!), but simply because she lived a long, full life and I got to choose the right time to let her go. Those I’ve lost suddenly, at a young age, or due to unexplained (medical) circumstances have probably grieved me more. So many “what ifs” that must go unanswered. But I grew up on a farm where I got lots of opportunity to learn the cold hard facts about letting go. So I try to stay in the moment from pretty early-on, because I recognize that we all come with an expiration date and the best I can hope for is a long happy life, lots of great memories and (if I’m lucky), a beautiful day to die. I will also add that I think it gets harder as we age. We know we have limited time and energy to start all over again and that’s a bitter pill to swallow. For the first time in my life I do the math now, before jumping into another commitment. It’s the responsible thing to do, but I know that day is coming when I’ll have to stop raising pups from scratch. So perhaps the realization of our own mortality is part of why it hits home so hard as we age? I do remember the shock of my father saying he was done and wouldn’t get another dog after his last one died. When I asked why, he simply said, “The older I get the harder it is to let them go.” I was stunned by this old, hardened country doctor/farmers words. Ah, the luxury of being a naive youngster. I’m nearly the age he was when he said that and sadly, I understand his sentiments now.
Bren Axon says
I believe you have gotten the explanation just right. Those who are not animal lovers find our grief incomprehensible and in a way, it often makes me feel sad for them because they miss the joy that a dog can bring us. I’ve lost many dogs in my adult life (I was never allowed a dog as a child, only cats). I can say that the grief for me at losing a dog has been far worse than losing a cat.
The last dog I lost, in 2011, my first ever Leonberger, (who was a rehome at 11 months) well, I thought I would never recover from the grief. The grief was overwhelming and debilitating and I cried every day. I absolutely yearned for him with every beat of my heart. I fell into a very deep depression that lasted the best part of a year or more after his death. Eventually we put ourselves on a breeder wait list for another Leo and had to wait 18 months for a pup. In the meantime, as someone who boards dogs (as well as being a trainer), I was boarding different Leonbergers who belonged to friends. Some might think that was a comfort (my husband appeared to think so) but it was actually torture for me.
When our puppy finally came home with us, I had great trouble bonding with her. I thought it would be a joyful occasion and I would be overwhelmed with love for this little Leo pup. But I felt not much at all which scared me. I did everything I should do for her, but the emotion was not there. Looking back I think I felt it might be betraying my bond with my departed dog if I loved another. It took 3 weeks for me to finally feel that I was bonding with Juno. She’s now just turned 6. She and I have an incredibly strong bond that I believe surpasses any I’ve previously had with a dog. I love her with a passion and I believe it’s reciprocated in the way she is with me. When Juno was 1 yr we acquired a 2 yr old Leo as company for her. My bond with that second dog is not the same even though its been five years.
The worst thing is that Juno is suffering from cancer. She has had treatment and chemo but we know it’s not a cure. She’s in remission right now but that could change at any time. I am faced with the fact that she will most likely not live to a ripe old age as our first Leo did. I don’t even know if she will be with me this time next year. I try not to think about the future, but I am not sure how I am going to face losing this most precious being before she’s old and has lived a long life. I think the grief is going to be unmanageable.
Kirsten says
Thank you for your insights: the parent/child metaphor is powerful. I am very sorry for your loss. Tsunami is such an accurate word to describe the grief process. I lost my Heart and Soul (WolfCub) late 2017. Like you, I knew it was going to be dreadful. But it has been so much worse. He was/is my second skin. He is the reason I became a dog trainer and a photographer – he is intimately entwined with my identity. It has been hard to find ‘me’ without him. He led me from the dark to the light. I grieve hard for him, knowing there is no timeline for grief. I have explored and found great comfort in a spiritual connection with him. He visits me in dreams. I stand before his picture every morning and say “I carry your heart in my heart, I carry your heart” (thanks e e cummings). I feel him with me many times. And yes, I miss his physical presence, like air itself. I am so grateful for my other two Belgians, Phoenix and Boo. The love they give nourishes and keeps me going. I simply cannot imagine life without dogs.
Monica says
Thank you to everyone who shared their stories, and to Trisha for her eloquent teachings. I lost my Niko on April 24. He was my heart dog, and nothing feels right anymore. He was quite a challenging dog — a rescue Shiba Inu — and I would not have had him any other way. He was a bright rare spirit.
Louise says
Like some of the other commenters I am childless by choice. I never wanted kids, but always wanted dogs :).
I grew up with an amazing GSD cross, we got her from the SPCA when i was 10 and i never thought it was possible to love that much. Then I went off to Uni and my brothers before me and she stayed with my folks and we came back from holidays and loved her….but never thought about how hard it must have been for her. Or regretted leaving for our exciting lives. The egocentric-ness of youth. she died when i was 21 and of course we were all there for her crossing, it could not have been any other way for me. And more than 20yrs later I still tear up thinking of her. She was so badly abused before us (as a puppy, unbelievably, beaten and whipped by her drug addict owner, in retrospect suffering terrible fear aggression and our family, so naive taking a fearful dog home with three young teens) yet she never showed us anything but intelligence, love and desperate wanting to do please us. I have regrets that we didn’t know more then about how to make her life better, what we might have done better. But we were kids and my folks didn’t know better. I guess nobody really did. Certainly NZ had obedience classes then, but not dog behaviourists.
I got my first “own” dog in my late 30s. As a complete commitment phobic it took me this long to buy a house (and in New Zealand its hard to have dogs if you rent) and I still refer to it as Millie’s house 6 years later – because its all for her. In contrast to my first dog the love i have for this one is an adult love, the love of giving more than taking. (Not that we didn’t “give” my first dog a lot but it was different.) Mills is nearly 8 now and whenever it occurs to me I wonder how I will deal with losing her when it happens, though it could (hopefully) be many years away. We spend every day together (I work from home) and have for 6 years. We walk every day and swim regularly. I ride my mountain bike with her while she chases rabbits. She comes on holidays in my van for hiking or riding. We snuggle on the couch and play silly games with soft toys. I have a partner but its the loss of this girl that will break me.
Grace says
In addition to all the other great comments people have made, I’d like to add one: For all the dogs I’ve had in my life, they are the beings I can be “me” with. They don’t know – and don’t care – that I say a bad word occasionally; I don’t have to be politically correct when I talk to them; and most importantly, when I make a little mistake in cueing a behavior or timing of a reward / reinforcement for a skill / behavior well done, they tell me in all their wonderful ways, “It’s okay, Mom, you’ll do better next time.”
Catherine A Holmes says
It’s their innocence. Dogs completely lack guile, defensiveness or excuses. When they make a mistake, they lovingly stare at us with their big innocent eyes and our hearts melt. We love them so much because they communicate, not with words or intelligence but with their love.
Gail says
Thank you, Trisha, for such a lovely piece and tribute to Willie. Your writing and photographs are quite moving. It has brought up memories of all the “why” I loved my Lola. I think it is good for me to be dwelling in the good memories of my perfect dog. I want to share a few of them here.
Lola liked to help make the bed. Since she was a little bigger than my hand, she quickly understood the rhythm and pattern of my making my bed. She would want to get up on the bed to help. How she would help is to get up and walk to the other side of the bed at each stage of the process. She was never “trained” to do this, she just took it upon herself to be part of this chore. Fitted sheet tucked on one side, then walk over so the other side could be tucked. Then the same for the flat sheet, and again for the blanket. She kept her eyes on me to be alert for the next move. She didn’t like to be under the covers, and calmly walked out if she happened to get under during our routine. I can’t imagine I’ll make the bed again without thinking of her.
Lola was so incredibly patient. She waited for me until I was ready. I seemed to take a long time getting out of the house in the morning. I knew she should go out when we got up although she had a bladder that would hold seemingly forever. I would be stalling if it was cold out, drink my coffee, then I’d bundle up with coats and boots and gloves…. then bumbling around for her coat and her leash and poop bags and my keys. I would finally get her out and she would take 3-5 minutes to relieve herself still.
Once when Lola was probably 10 years old, she had a stomach bug or something and I came home from work to find that she had pooped in the tub! One other time in her life she had diarrhea, and didn’t make it into the tub, but did go on the linoleum floor in the bathroom, avoiding the rest of my carpeted apartment. Genius!
Lola would let me put t shirts and coats on her and Halloween costumes too. Her attitude seemed to be “If you must….” She never fought me, she just let it happen.
Lola never seemed to cry or bark or be insistent unless she needed something. My husband took a while understanding that she was not just being annoying…. Every time I thought she was annoying I later realized that she needed something, whether it was to go out, or to fill her water bowl, or to get a single piece of kibble that she realized had rolled under a chair a month ago and needed to be found and eaten in this moment. She was proud to point out this missing prize!
Lola had a guilty pleasure of pleasing herself with a pillow. If she was left alone with one, we would frequently catch her. We were once watching TV with the dogs in the living room and she simply got up and walked into the dark bedroom. I got up and went to see what she was doing….only to find her…. It always made me laugh. Lola never tried to do the same with any animals or human legs though.
Lola had an amazing sense of both direction and the 1/2 way point of a walking loop. For instance, when she wanted a “full” around the neighborhood walk, she wouldn’t poop until she was at the 1/2 way mark and no sooner. If we were on a hike in the woods, she would dawdle until the 1/2 way mark, and then would pick up the pace and high step it the rest of the way. If there were forks in the road on the way to our car, she always picked the right path (even when we were not so sure!)
Lola wasn’t too picky about eating. When she was young I made a game out of dinner otherwise she just wasn’t eating…. I would throw kibble to her and she loved to fetch it. At the end of her life she also liked that game. But then I was trying to slow her down as she was chowing too fast due to prednisone. She had her preferences- she loved frozen french fries, but not frozen sweet potato fries. She loved the smell of tomatoes and would be very excited if I was cutting them, but she didn’t like to eat them! She did like tomato sauce though and loved to lick my bowl and get it all over the white hair on her face. When I changed to a vegan diet, she didn’t seem to mind at all. She was just as thrilled to be given a brussel sprout as she had a small bite of steak. She also loved uncooked spaghetti! She liked cooked spaghetti too and volunteered to check the doneness when needed.
She loved to tease her “brother” Cooper. They enjoyed chewing on rawhide and never had any problems associated with them. They were like a pacifier. Both dogs would get a “bone” after dinner and would be enjoying them when Lola would jump toward the sliding glass doors and bark (as if to say, “Hey Cooper, look at those people walking by…. I saw them first!”) Cooper, then would get up to bark at the door and when he did, Lola would run to his rawhide so she had two! What a rascal.
Cooper taught her the fun of hunting. Unfortunately she and her brother did once get a chip monk that was trapped in a log when they were off leash. Once, she also got a little bird. That made us sad. She once had her paw on a chip monk that ran from under an air conditioner condenser. The rest of the time she just seemed quite amused and intensely excited to listen to an animal that was hiding in the rocks or in a drain pipe.
For the most part, Lola was a dog that acted a lot like a cat. She was a bit aloof and independent, but in a good way. She always slept in my bed- at my feet. She didn’t want to be close when it was bedtime. If we were in bed and she was up near my side or head, I knew something was up- like she needed to go out or she didn’t feel well for some other reason and I knew I had to figure it out. Sometimes she would wake me in the middle of the night by readjusting herself and curling up near my feet, then walking on my legs to curl up on the other side…. again signaling me that she needed something. This was really an infrequent thing, so I knew. Before my husband realized that I was so in tune with her, he thought I was being too lenient as though she was misbehaving. He did come to realize that Lola was trying to communicate what she needed.
She was up for a walk, a hike, a car ride or just vegging in bed or hanging out while I worked on my computer. Early in the morning she seemed to think I was nuts for being up, and would find a dark place to catch some extra sleep. She did great when I wasn’t home and never seemed panicked when I returned. Her greeting was a simple wag as to say “Oh your home! Welcome :)”
She was a peaceful, delightful, lovely being. I am so grateful. I miss her and can’t yet bring myself to empty her water bowl and take up her placemat or chew sticks.
Margo says
Thank you Trisha, I love this so much.
Also all the comments, and stories about everyone’s wonderful dogs! Such up-lifting reading while looking after my 2 oldies Echo & Sam…. sad, happy, funny bits and all! Inspiring.
Ginny in WI says
I cried buckets reading this and so many equally beautiful comments. Tears of sadness yes, but also from feeling so filled up with the joy and wonder of sharing this incredble bond with another being that I felt like my heart would burst if I didn’t let some of it out.
Child, parent, life partner, best friend–a relationship formed from the best parts of all of these, but “devoid of the baggage that weighs on our human relationships like an anchor”, as you so eloquently wrote. No wonder we fall madly, deeply, dangerously in love with our dogs.
I’m late in offering my condolences in the loss of your dear Willie. I have also experienced that kind of grief, and am very sorry for your pain. And for Jim’s, Maggie’s and whoever else knew and loved and misses your Willie Boy.
For whatever it’s worth, I truly believe that you have done more to help dogs and the people who love them than any other individual in the world of animal behavior. You have such a gift for getting the message out in ways that reach both our hearts and our brains, be it through your books, blog, lectures–going all the way back to the days of the old Calling All Pets radio and TV shows and individual client consultations. I personally went from prong collars and the Monks of New Skete to force-free training. (Of course I regret the former but as Maya Angelou said “…when you know better, do better.”) You, and a series of trainers you trained (thinking most fondly of Chelse here), taught me to know and do better.
We were lucky enough indeed to have had you come to our home to teach us how to turn our dog Lobo into someone we could live with. Lobo was a strikingly handsome long haired GSD, who was already a challenge at 7 mos. and 75 lbs. when we adopted him from the DCHS. As a 100 lb. adult, he was a whirlwind who knocked over furniture and dragged me down the block on “walks”. I feared we’d made a very big mistake. You explained to us that he was a working breed who needed a job and Lobo’s job turned out to be fetching. So long as he got at least 30 minutes a day of chasing after some thrown object, he was a sweet natured goofball who regularly entertained–and only occasionally frustrated–us with his antics. I’m happy to say that he had a long and happy life with us and eventually matured to the point that a vet actually exclaimed, “He’s such a gentleman!”
My deepest gratitude for all you’ve done for dogs and the people who are gobsmacked in love with them.
Merry Guernsey says
Thank you very much for both the article and everyone’ comments. We just love our doggies to the core of our being, and they do the same. Just pure 100% emotional connection with no strings attached.
love says
These petique creatures give so much meaning to our lives. This article really brings us back to our humanity. It makes us reflect deep into our core until we realize how much we care for our petique fur babies 🙂
Karen says
I was thinking just recently that my dog who is not long off leaving, has taught me about caring for another unconditionally. I don’t have children, but I needed to learn this lesson. My other alpha boy has taught me about being a leader and leadership even if I don’t feel like it. Or want it. They have also taught me the most about speaking dog when all of us are on the floor playing. They are patient teachers.
They are complicated relationships because they are are deeply felt, closely held, primary in their intimacy.
Treasured and at the moment, I so want to wind back time but I can’t.
athea marcos amir says
Although most of my friends and some of my own children are animal lovers, to be 100% honest, I believe it’s an illness. Some, of course, are sicker than others. I would never harm an animal, but if they were all swept away in a plague I’d rejoice. The smell alone is bad enough, but the barking, slobbering, feces-eating, butt-sniffing, etc., really makes me wonder if I’m living in a huge insane asylum where the inmates find the aforementioned behavior cute and charming. Sorry, folks, but I don’t get it and probably never will.
Trisha says
Oh my. I am so sad for you. (And I can’t but help thinking about how messy, noisy and annoying children can be, and yet, it’s a rare person who doesn’t think that they are worth it.)
Brittney Peterson says
My precious dog means the world to me. EVERYTHING said in this article is the TRUTH. Mowgli is the BEST thing EVER given to me. He’s a havanese that is extremely smart. It’s scary how smart he is. I love how he lets me know that I am loved. He knows if I’m not well. 💛
Bonnie Holman says
Two days ago, I put a piece of my heart on a vet’s table & watched her cross over the Rainbow Bridge. I adopted Pippa, a small buff Pekingese, from the Humane Society. She saved me from an abusive divorce – much more so than I saved her. Everyone who met her told me they had never met a more well behaved dog – and had never seen a dog more devoted to her person. She was always waiting for me at the back door – smiling at me, then twirling in excitement that we were together again. Pippa, I love you more than words can describe. Pippa
, heaven won’t be heaven for me if you aren’t waiting at the door…getting ready to twirl for me when we are together again.
Trisha says
She’ll be there Bonnie, twirling and twirling and twirling.
Ricky Lyn Mohl Sr says
I just recently had to let my sweet girl go. I thought she would be with us…if not forever…then longer than eleven years anyway. Sadly it was not to be. As a poet I wrote her a goodbye poem, with the thought that it would help with my grief….it didn’t. If anything, it made it worse. I have cried every day since her passing…and that was tough enough in itself…the visit to the Vet and all that went with it. Anyway the tears are down to two or three times a day instead of the eight or nine that it was in the beginning…so I suppose I am healing….although it sure doesn’t feel as if I am. If I may, I would like to share the poem I wrote for her….we called her Darby
Good Things True
It was eleven springs ago and there you were,
Four legs, two eyes and a tail wagging of fur.
Just so little and I could hold you in my arms,
It didn’t take long for you to steal my charms.
The years came and went, one after another,
I soothed your fears of the wind and thunder.
Took you on walks, a favorite part of the day,
A roll in the grass to savor the sunlight’s ray.
But all too soon there was grey in your chin,
The gait slowed up and the pain would begin.
All the comfort we could give, ease and care,
Was part of the agreement in a love of share.
I look for you, but you’re not there anymore,
You were always near me, lying on the floor.
But when I turn to look, just to see your face,
One moment there, then gone without a trace.
Snacking late at night just won’t be the same,
Without you there to make me feel the shame.
I toss you a morsel and you catch it on the fly,
Easier to swallow the guilt between you and I.
The wind was strong today, it called your name,
In a whisper breath it spoke mine just the same.
Intertwining and interlocking the trees in the air,
Rest your fear sweet girl, it can no longer scare.
Take me back to a life when I once knew you,
Filled with love and trust and good things true.
Perhaps in my dreams there exists such a place,
Into a delightful sleep where I can see your face.
Ricky L. Mohl Sr.
February 19, 2020
Terry Reardon says
I’ve always asked myself that question.
“Why do I love my dog soo much?”.
I’m on my 3rd dog now, after my first dog, (Ceaser) I promised myself I’d never put myself through that kind of grief again. I got my 2nd dog (Tanna) and said the same thing, now I”m on my 3rd dog. (Sarge) I know what awaits, I’ll never be ready for it, but my emotions will be and I’ll shed my tears over your body and feel loved, always loved. An unconditional love like no other….
Dog spelt backwards (God).
Quote From Will Rogers
“If there are no dogs in heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.”
Michelle Marie Finley says
It was the worst thing ever it was like you said the oxygen was taken from the air and you couldn’t breathe it is like losing your child I still feel like this it’s been 1 month but it keeps playing over and over again and again
I could write a book of emotions with this its awful I’ve had to see my 2 fur babies die and I cant go through this again I cant handle it physically
So much I could say the worst thing I have ever felt
Trisha says
So so sorry Michelle. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Moly says
That’s such an emotional post. I brought tears to my eyes, I am so sorry to hear about your loss. Your post made me remind that how much I love blue nose pitbull. He is such a darling. I can never imagine of losing him.
Linda says
My husband passed away and I was very lonely so I checked out dog rescues and found a perfect companion in a dog! Hes so wonderful and I have to say that he loves me like I’ve never been loved before! And I love him like I would a child. We go on adventures together, we play together and he sleeps beside me every night. I plan every day according to what would make him happy and most comfortable weather wise. He has gotten me through one of the most trying times in my life. Dogs are there for us, always, and they love us unconditionally. I think he rescued me more so than I rescued him.
Ed Acker says
I think that it’s the part of us that hasn’t been co-opted by materialism and ego that connects spiritually with animals.