What I Have Learned From Dogs

Growing up my Grammy had a long-haired Maltese named Sugar. Sugar hated everyone, including my Grandpy. He would bark, bite, and snarl at anyone who even glanced in his direction. He was a miserable dog. And my Grammy adored him. In her eyes, he could do no wrong. She carried him everywhere. She even had a professional photoshoot of him, of which she then had a massive print made that hung proudly in her home until she died. Almost all of my memories of my Grammy include Sugar, proudly sitting in her lap, bow in his hair, like a king on his throne.

As I grew, Sugar aged and as will happen with dogs, health issues accompanied that aging. I watched as my Grammy spent expensive vet bills, hand-administered medications, and nervously waited outside of the operating room as she tried to get every last second she could with Sugar. I witnessed her love, their bond, unique to any other relationship she had. And when she inevitably had to say goodbye to him, I sat with her in her grief, which she carried until she died, over 20 years later, one of her last requests being that Sugar’s ashes were put in her casket with her.

My Grammy and I share a lot of qualities that I am proud of but the one I hold closest is our deep respect and love for dogs. She always used to tell me “I like dogs better than people”, which I know rings true for many of us. I have been lucky to have walked the path of life with many wonderful dogs, all unique, and all leaving me with lessons that have shaped who I am as a person.

Jake

My first dog’s name was Jake. He was a Golden Retriever/ Keeshond mix. All black with one little streak of white in the center of his chest. His long, fuzzy, black fur was a constant fixture, mimicking tumbleweed as is floated across our hardwood floors, at the daily frustration of my mother. Jake was not only my first dog but my first puppy. I remember the immense joy in my heart as the responsibility of loving another being came into my awareness. We lost Jake when my parents divorced and we had to move. I felt his absence constantly.

Max & Mr. Moochie

After Jake came Max— a white and brown Shih Tzu. Max was that miserable old man who throws rocks at little kids off his front porch. His constant look of exasperation was contrasted by his wagging tail and endless kisses. Max would later gain a brother in a brown Shih Tzu, Mr. Moochie. Mr. Moochie was my first dog that was specifically for me, not the family. Of course he became a family dog when I went off to college, but through all of middle school and high school, Mr. Moochie was my shadow. He and Max greeted me excitedly when I would come home from college and graduate school for visits and he slept at the foot of my bed, even when we were both too big to fit on that small twin sized mattress.

Max and Mr. Moochie taught me about growing up. They were silent observers to my awkward middle school years, sat at the feet of my high school friends when we hung out on the weekends. They slept between my college friends when they visited over summer vacation and met my first partner when I brought him home. They held the secrets of my youth, witnessing the mistakes I made as I stumbled across the starting line of adulthood. And all the while, they loved me through it. Their loss felt like the end of the chapter of my life that was childhood.

Penelope

Penelope came to me in 2013 when I was in my fourth year of graduate school. She was a 1.5 year old Boxer who had been a mill mother and rescued by Paws Chicago. I always say that when I met Penelope it was as if my heart said to her’s “I’ve been looking for you.” Penelope taught me about my own resilience. She got me up, out, and gave me a purpose during a time where I felt directionless. She created community for me with other dog owners. She was down for anything— sitting in my car as I ran errands, snuggling on the couch when I was sick, and sleeping late into the afternoon on weekends, only getting up when I did. She accompanied me through the end of my course work and clinicals, through pre and post residency, dissertation defense, graduation, and my first job. She was calm, easy, and loved everyone.

Penelope died in 2017 and it wrecked me. I think of my life as before and after Penelope. The person I was before that day is not who I would become after. Her loss forced me to lean into that resiliency she helped me find in myself all those years prior.

Winston

Seven months after losing Penelope, Winston came into my life. Winston was a 10 week old Boxer puppy from Tennessee. He was naughty. He loved getting into mischief and was my velcro dog; wanting to be attached to me at all times. I struggled to love Winston when I first got him. A part of me wasn’t ready for him— it felt too soon after Penelope, as if I were betraying her. I feared that Winston would push her out of my heart. But Winston did the exact opposite. Winston taught me that there are more options than I might see on the surface. He didn’t push Penelope out, but rather showed me how to expand my heart to make room for him as well. Winston walked me through the most difficult time of my life and patiently waited until I was ready to love him as much as he loved me. He made me laugh in times where I never thought I would again.

I had seven, wonderful years with Winston. He was my protector, confidant, biggest fan, and an expert cuddler. He vetted my now husband and turned him into a dog person. He celebrated our engagement with us, when we bought our house, and walked with us down the aisle at our wedding. He slept quietly in the sunlight as I began teletherapy for the first time and remained in the background as I had my first session in my private practice. And on a cool day in November 2024, I thanked him for the seven years of companionship and love, and we said our goodbyes.

Gordon

Gordon joined our family seven months after we lost Winston. While you’re never fully ready for the insanity a puppy brings into your life, I felt like I was as prepared as I possibly could be. I found myself in a very different place that I had ever been as a new dog joined my journey. Life is stable, consistent, predictable, and calm. I wasn’t preparing to move, starting a temporary residency, or deciding what my next career move would be.

Gordon came into my life at a time where I was able to hold the lessons my previous dogs had taught me front and center. I knew that he wasn’t going to replace my love for my other dogs, but that he would further show me my heart’s ability to expand, just as Winston had taught me, along with the patience and understanding gained from Winston’s puppyhood. I had the understanding of how fleeting and temporary our time here is so its essential to enjoy every second we have, which Penelope’s life taught me. I had the comfort of his reliability that I learned from Max and Mr. Moochie’s unwavering love as I moved around the country, learning who I would become. And I felt the excitement of the possibilities, which I felt when we first brought Jake home as a puppy.

I believe that dogs and animals in general change us. At least, the ones I have been honored to share life with have changed me. Animals require us to think outside of ourselves. They make us get up, get moving, and get out. We have to tap into a part of ourselves that is nurturing, thoughtful, selfless, and loving. With animals, we can embody a part of ourselves that many of us don’t have the change to in other areas of our life. They see us for who we are, in all of the mess and complication, and they love us— not in spite of it, but along with it. Because animals love all of us, even the parts that we struggle to love. They see that all of those parts make up the person they love, trust, and depend on. They aren’t burdened by the manufactured priorities that society places on us. The only thing on their schedule is their next meal time. Animals will celebrate with us when we succeed and sit silently next to us as we grieve. It is rare to find a person who will do all of that. 

People say the hardest part of having a pet is the knowledge that their life is abbreviated compared to ours. While I agree that I would give anything to keep my dogs alive forever, I also find some comfort in knowing that we don’t have the next 40 years together. Its something I keep in the foreground of my mind. It motivates me to enjoy every minute with them. To encode the smell of their head and the texture of their paw pads into my memory. Its the reason I pay for 2TB of iCloud storage so I can take the same picture of them sleeping for the 100th time without worrying about hitting my limit.

Animals tell us that we are loved, unconditionally. That no matter where we are or who we meet, there will always be a little heart beat at home that beats just a little faster when they hear our footsteps outside the front door. And I know that that has changed me.