The Family Dog

Nelly

I remember bringing home our first family dog, Nelly. She was an eight-week-old yellow lab puppy. My brother and I were so excited to finally have a dog, and we took care of her like she was our baby. We knew she’d be missing her mom and her littermates, so we did everything we could to make her feel comfortable and cared for. A few minutes into the drive home, she started crying, and she didn’t stop for a long time. We weren’t quite sure what to do because the comfort from a four- and seven-year-old child is not nearly the same as a mother dog.

Nelly was a total daddy’s girl. She loved my dad. He trained her, so she was obedient and smart and an all-around great family dog. (Except for the time she pooped in my shoes.) In fact, we liked having Nelly as part of our family so much that we got two more dogs, Nikki and Penny. 

Nikki and Penny did not come from a breeder. In fact, we plucked Nikki out of a ditch behind our neighborhood and rescued Penny from a high-stakes game of Frogger on a busy road. 

Nikki

These two were not nearly as well behaved as Nelly. In fact, Penny ate pretty much every book that we had in the house—something about the smell of the glue drew her to the hardbacks in particular—and we still have a few that we tried to repair with duct tape living on the bookshelves in my parent’s living room. 

Each of the dogs had their own personality, and losing each one was hard in its own way. By the time we lost Nelly, I was a freshman in college and was not able to make it home, as my family had to put her down during finals week. 

Nikki came next. She was well into her golden years when she passed. She barely had the strength to lift her head at the end, and the vet told my parents that she likely would have passed away on her own within the next few hours if they hadn’t brought her in. 

Penny’s death was a shock. She was the spunkiest, most lively dog we had. She got sick with some kind of liver condition and started to go down hill quickly. We all took her death the hardest because she was everyone’s buddy. 

Penny

After Nelly passed, my brother adopted a jack russell terrier mix from the shelter and named him Harley. Harley filled a hole in our hearts, and he quickly became the family favorite. He spent a lot of time with my parents when my brother was at work, and he quickly became my dad’s best friend. 

Last week, we lost Harley. We are all still pretty torn up about it—it was unexpected and quick. He went from bouncing around the house on Sunday to barely being able to breathe on Monday. Monday night, my brother had to make a tough decision to euthanize to prevent prolonging his pain. 

Me and Harley

It never gets easier to lose a pet. I have a good friend who loves animals and is my dog’s best friend. He loves her to pieces, and I know the feeling is mutual. She and I still talk about her family’s dog, an akita mix, that lived to be nearly seventeen years old (maybe older!). 

Our pets leave a lasting impression on us. They carve out a piece of our hearts and hold it with them forever. 

I have a three-year-old German shepherd/golden retriever mix named Bear. He is the first dog I’ve owned that isn’t a family dog. He’s 100% my responsibility—the training, the vet bills, and the food costs (he’s over 100 pounds and eats A LOT). 

Bear (the picture that made me fall in love with him!)

The first day we brought him home, I was determined to establish a routine immediately. We had the house set up for him—a brand new crate in the corner of the kitchen, several toys, and a new collar and leash. He was eight months old when we adopted him from a family who was rehoming him.

Just like Nelly, he cried on the drive to our house. The family he lived with before us owned his mom and dad, so he was separated from them for the first time in a while. I’m not sure if he missed them or if he was just scared to be with strangers, but his anxiety wore off quickly, and he settled into living with us within a day or two. 

My husband and I didn’t settle in as quickly. 

For the first few weeks, I was worried about him peeing in the house and eating my books and running off and sleeping in my bed—all behaviors the dogs I’d grown up with displayed. My husband and I took turns sleeping on the couch in the living room so he wouldn’t be alone at night. 

Now, he cuddles with us for at least 30 minutes before bed each night. Needless to say, my efforts to keep him out of the bed didn’t last, but he has not eaten any books or peed in the house, so I’d say things have gone well. 

Bear is one of my best buddies. We go for a walk together every day at lunchtime, he’s my constant companion, and my kitchen helper. I never have to worry about food scraps landing on the floor. 

I know it’s going to hurt a lot when we lose Bear. I’m already mentally preparing myself even though that’s (hopefully) at least ten years from now. He has become part of my life, and it’s hard to imagine life without my buddy. He has helped me become a better person—I’m less selfish, more loving, and more disciplined (even if I don’t feel up to it, I still have to take care of him). It’s great training for parenthood. 

While my entire family is still feeling the sting of losing Harley, I know that the time we had with him, while relatively short in the grand scheme of things, was well worth it. He brought so much happiness and joy to our lives, and I know his life was made better by being with us. He was a well loved little guy, and he always made sure we knew how much he loved us too.