Dogs
Dogs have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. They’re more than just pets—they’ve been my companions, protectors, and source of comfort through all kinds of moments, big and small. I’ve had three dogs in my life, and each one has taught me something different about loyalty, love, and even loss.
The first was Christie, a smart German Shepherd who came into our family the same year I was born. We kind of grew up together, and in a way, she felt more like a sibling than just a dog. I vividly remember her climbing up a ladder and then zooming down the slide like it was no big deal. She wasn’t just fun; she was a protector. I always felt safe with Christie around. Losing her was my first real experience with grief. She got caught in the motor of a haying machine, and I was devastated. My dad said we needed to put her down, and even though she had a big patch of skin missing, I didn’t want to accept it. She was still my dog, still there, and I wasn’t ready to let her go. My dad lost many “hero points” in my eyes that day.
After Christie came Mandy, an Irish Setter with endless energy. She was manic at times, always happy, always moving. If there’s one thing I remember clearly about Mandy, it’s the shedding. Long red hair everywhere. I remember building a weightlifting bench, carefully shellacking it, and leaving it outside to dry. The next morning, it was covered in Mandy’s red fur—so much for my perfect bench. But as frustrating as that was, you couldn’t stay mad at Mandy for long. She was too full of joy, too eager to play and be loved. She got older, though, and arthritis set in. When the time came to put her down, I was 16, and it was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. I remember sitting in my car afterward, crying for a good five minutes. The vet had assured me it wouldn’t hurt her, but it sure hurt me.
Now we have Oliver, our little Yorkie Terrier. I’ll admit, I was never really a “small dog” person before we got him. He came to us after his owners, whom my son Nicholas used to help with chores, passed away. None of the owners' children wanted Oliver, so we took him in. At first, I wasn’t sure about having such a tiny dog, but Oliver has grown on me in ways I didn’t expect. He’s laid-back, probably because he spent his early years with older people, but he’s got this calm presence that’s really won over the whole family. He’s not hyper or demanding; he just quietly fits in, always there for a snuggle or a belly rub. I’m not sure how I’ll feel when his time comes. I’ve already been through losing two dogs, and it never gets easier, but the time he’s been with us has been unforgettable.
The thing about dogs is that, yes, they don’t live as long as we do. That used to make me sad, thinking about how unfair it was that I’d have to say goodbye after only 10 or 15 years. But now, I see it differently. Dogs pack so much life into those years. They’re always in the moment. They don’t wait for vacations or special occasions to be happy; every day, every moment, they’re ready for joy. When I come home after being gone just ten minutes, Oliver greets me like I’ve been away for a year. And that’s a gift. Dogs remind us to appreciate the little things—being together, a good scratch behind the ears, or just the simple joy of having someone who’s always happy to see you.
So yeah, dogs don’t live as long as we’d like, but in those years, they give us everything they have. They love us, protect us, and, in their own way, they teach us how to live better, more mindful lives. I’ve lost dogs, and I know I’ll lose more, but the love they give is worth every tear.