For almost eight years, I was pretty certain my mom loved our German Shepherd, Judge, more than she loved me. If you need proof, don’t worry, I have it: he got pup cups from the local ice cream shop; I got, “no dessert until you finish your vegetables.” There was a “no dogs on the couch” rule—except for Judge, who somehow always ended up with the best seat in the house. Vacation plans centered around what might be best for Judge. He had his own Christmas stocking, a cameo on our holiday card, and even an Instagram account.
She never actually acknowledged the accusation, just gave a mom-look and a smile, every time I brought it up. Of course, the more she doted on him, the more I leaned into the bit (made for good comedy). Even though I was the firstborn, Judge was the golden child—the one who listened the first time, who didn’t forget to bring down empty water bottles from the bedroom (actually, Judge helped me with that), or leave socks in the living room (he helped with that, too).
Looking back, it was never really about Judge being the favorite. My mom saw how much he meant to me before I did. He showed up for me in ways I didn’t ask for but always needed—waiting at the door after practice, lying beside me when I’d stare up at the ceiling as I tried to fall asleep. He just knew, and for that, I’m grateful. Nevertheless, I would still find opportunities to interject, "You love Judge more than me!"
As strong as Judge was, his illness came on fast. A Hail Mary surgery actually worked—yet came with a terminal diagnosis a week later. I took the lead the best I could. I helped with vet visits, researched treatment options along with my mom, and did whatever it took to make Judge comfortable, until it was time to say goodbye.
That’s when I understood something I like to think I always felt in my heart: Judge was my quiet anchor, and my mom knew it all along. She understood the role he played in my life long before I did. So, no—my mom didn’t love Judge more than me; she loved him because of how deeply he loved me.
Everyone says I’m a big, strong guy with a kind heart, and that’s exactly who Judge was too. Species aside, we were more alike than different, we really were brothers. I do find comfort in knowing he’s the reason I try to be there for others the way he was always there for me, in the big moments and in the quiet ones. I am the intuitive, big, strong guy, a steady presence, and source of support when it’s needed most, without being asked, thanks to the German Shepherd who walked around with one ear up and one ear down.
I definitely miss him as much as I love what he taught me about life: empathic leaders make the greatest impact, strength is not always visible, giving and receiving kindness is normal. Thanks to Judge, I know presence matters more than words, and sometimes the strongest action I can do for another is to love unconditionally, especially when no one is watching. Whether I’m walking the halls of school, stepping onto the athletic field, or simply being part of someone’s every-day, these are just some of the lessons I carry with me all thanks to my four legged brother.
Of course, I’ll still joke that Judge was the favorite to bring back great memories and make my mom smile — because at the end of the day, my mom and I know the truth: her love for me, and mine for her, will stand the test of time, thanks to the lasting imprint of Judge’s unconditional love for us all.