On a recent road trip to Tofino via several other destinations, I had my dog for company and remembered a post I wrote in 2020 about how the same dog had changed my pandemic experience. This morning, I re-read that reflection and saw how much of it holds up (other parts were a weird trip down memory lane of a plague). Back then, I had referred to the dog as a lifeline and I still believe that’s an appropriate label.

And so, instead of writing about other things on my mind right now, I’m going to talk about dogs. 

Perhaps I’ll eventually form appropriate sentences to share my thoughts on other subjects: my fear about what’s happening in North America…the disgust I feel for the overreach of a particular orange narcissist and the unelected maniac billionaires alongside him…the hypocrisy of some Canadians who insult the same Bank of Canada Governor they once worked with and praised…my sense of uselessness at changing any of these things…the feelings of shame that accompany feeling immensely tired even though I haven’t worked full-time for a few months…the grief that comes with caregiving…and so on.

Perhaps eventually. But not today. 

I never imagined I’d be so affected by a dog. I enjoyed having a cat and horses while growing up. I liked dogs well enough, and it was fun to have them around when other people brought them into my life. I thought I’d eventually get a dog as a reason to go on walks and spend more time closer to home. I did not imagine I’d become the kind of person who wants to take her dog everywhere, the kind of person who carries on whole conversations with an animal. And yet, here I am. 

As I’ve gotten to know this creature and the ways she’s matured in our almost five years of knowing each other, I’ve also become more aware of what other dogs have offered to people I care about. 

For example, I sometimes want a time machine to go back and do a better job of supporting my friend in university when her family dog died. 

I want to give a giant hug to the chocolate Lab who helped another friend settle into a new city after the end of a long relationship; I want to thank him for being with my friend as she grieved heavy things, as she met a new guy and built a family with him. 

I still have a visceral memory of watching my brother and his dog reuniting on the grounds of a hospital. I smile to myself when I think about how that same dog greeted visitors at home – with a stuffed toy hanging from his fierce but gentle mouth. 

More recently, we said goodbye to my mom’s dog. His skeptical attitude didn’t stop him from also being devoted and loyal. He saw his people through hard times and big changes; he only requested repayment in routine treats and occasional scratches.

My sister and stepmom’s dog loves a good, long walk. She’ll keep you focused on moving ahead, but is also happy to curl up later while you’ve got a good book or TV show on the go. That’s another four-legged friend who has gotten her humans through some tough stuff. 

I realize I’m verging on – or well into – a bunch of tired clichés. I also realize there are much better works of art on this subject: poems, books, movies that demonstrate how much dogs can add to life. And you’ve maybe got your own list of dogs you admire. After all, “IYKYK”.

But I’m writing these sentences anyway, because I believe there’s value in acknowledging joy, love, and friendship…especially in times when I don’t know what else to do. 

That orange narcissist and all the other people I’m not writing about today? They want more division, more anger, more power. I want to reject that way of being. 

If nothing else, I can at least do this: I can thank the pup I call Covi for being an unwavering friend through all kinds of ups and downs. I can notice her joy as she tries to smell every smell on the streets, forests, pastures, and beaches we’ve visited. I can notice the friendship and generosity she offers the kids in my life. I can be amazed, watching this otherwise anxious dog offer love to people who need it – in group homes, in stroke recovery units, in assisted living facilities. I can realize that if we had more Covi-like beings in the world (minus the shrieky bark), I might not need to write about the other topics I mentioned. 

As the bumper sticker says: “be the person your dog thinks you are”. 

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