The Best Thing a Dog Ever Taught Me Had Nothing to Do With Obedience
They don’t just share our lives. They quietly show us how to live them.
I’m a 74-year-old dog dad, and if I’m being honest, I’ve been owned by all of my dogs for most of my life.
Tonight I’m thinking about Cody and Lola.
Both are gone now, but neither is forgotten.
Cody was a Peke-Pug cross, he passed June 11th 2018… and he loved excitement. Cody loved to ride with me on my Road King.
Lola was a Chihuahua cross, she passed October 28th 2020.
When each of them came into my life, I made the same promise.
The deal was simple… until death do us part.
I would love them, care for them, protect them, and when the time came, I would hold them right to their final breath.
I kept every promise.
That’s the hard part of loving a dog…
We know how the story ends before it even begins.
When Lola died, I found myself facing a reality I had never really considered before.
At my age, I could no longer guarantee that I would outlive another dog.
I couldn’t promise that I would be there at the end to keep my side of the bargain.
So I made a decision.
No more dogs.
Not because I stopped loving them. Quite the opposite.
I loved them enough to know that every dog deserves someone who can make that promise and keep it.
And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure I could.
I still miss them both.
Some nights more than others.
Watching this video got me in the mood to write this love letter to my dogs…
For most of my life I said what everyone says.
“My dog.”
Simple enough.
But the older I get, the less that phrase makes sense.
I’ve had dogs that rode beside me through good years, bad years, business failures, family losses, and all the ordinary days in between.
Looking back, none of them ever felt like property.
They felt more like travelling companions.
Temporary ones.
And that’s the part most of us don’t want to think about.
A dog’s entire life is a lesson in something humans struggle to accept… nothing lasts forever.
Not youth.
Not health.
Not relationships.
Not us.
Yet dogs somehow live with that reality better than we do.
Dogs Live Where Humans Visit
Human beings are strange creatures.
We’re always somewhere other than where we are.
We replay conversations from ten years ago.
We worry about things that haven’t happened.
We invent disasters.
We rehearse arguments.
We spend half our lives mentally time-travelling.
Meanwhile the dog is standing at the door because a squirrel just appeared.
That’s not stupidity.
That’s presence.
A dog isn’t interested in becoming something.
It isn’t building a personal brand.
It isn’t comparing itself to the neighbour’s dog.
It isn’t wondering whether it made the right career choice.
It is simply here.
And if you’ve ever sat quietly with a dog, you’ve probably noticed something.
After a while, you start becoming a little more here too.
The Deal We Never Talk About
Humans love with contracts.
Most are never spoken aloud.
I’ll trust you if you don’t hurt me.
I’ll stay if you meet my expectations.
I’ll give you loyalty if you earn it.
We all do it.
Life teaches caution.
Experience builds armour.
Then along comes a dog.
The dog doesn’t care what your job is.
It doesn’t care if you gained twenty pounds.
It doesn’t care whether your latest project succeeded or crashed into a wall.
It isn’t tracking your mistakes.
It isn’t keeping score.
He or she simply shows up.
Day after day.
Tail wagging.
Ready to begin again.
There is something almost embarrassing about how uncomplicated that is.
And maybe that’s why it affects us so deeply.
Why Losing a Dog Hurts So Much
People sometimes apologize for grieving a dog.
I’ve never understood that.
Of course it hurts.
You didn’t lose a possession.
You lost a daily presence.
You lost the sound of familiar footsteps.
You lost a routine.
You lost a witness to your life.
A dog sees parts of you that most people never do.
Not your opinions.
Not your politics.
Not your accomplishments.
It knows your moods.
Your habits.
Your silences.
Your bad days.
And somehow it stays anyway.
When that disappears, the empty space feels enormous.
Not because the dog occupied so much room.
Because it occupied a place nothing else quite can.
The Other Lesson Dogs Teach
The older I get, the more I think dogs are reminders.
Not reminders about obedience.
Not reminders about responsibility.
Reminders about attention.
Most people spend their lives trapped in a running conversation inside their own heads.
The voice never shuts up.
It comments on everything.
Judges everything.
Predicts disasters.
Replays failures.
Creates worries on demand.
We mistake that voice for who we are.
Then we suffer because of it.
A dog doesn’t live there.
A dog lives here.
Right now.
This walk.
This meal.
This patch of sunshine on the floor.
That doesn’t mean dogs have all the answers.
It means they’re not carrying questions that don’t matter.
Maybe That’s Why We Need Them
I don’t think dogs arrive in our lives by accident.
Not in some mystical sense.
In a practical one.
Humans have a habit of becoming hard.
Too serious.
Too busy.
Too convinced that everything depends on us.
Dogs interrupt that.
They drag us outside.
Force us into routines.
Pull us away from screens.
Remind us that a good day might simply involve a walk and a nap.
They keep us connected to ordinary life.
And ordinary life is where most happiness actually lives.
The Real Gift
The mistake is thinking a dog’s job is to stay forever.
That was never the arrangement.
The gift was never permanence.
The gift was the time.
The years shared.
The mornings.
The walks.
The quiet companionship.
The lesson.
And maybe the lesson is simpler than we make it.
Be here.
Love while you can.
Stop keeping score.
Don’t waste today’s sunshine worrying about next year’s storm.
A dog understands that instinctively.
Most humans spend a lifetime trying to learn it.
The Recap…
Dogs don’t belong to us nearly as much as we imagine.
They spend their short lives teaching lessons most people spend decades chasing.
Presence. Loyalty. Simplicity. Love without scorekeeping.
Maybe the real tragedy isn’t that dogs leave us too soon.
Maybe it’s that we rarely learn everything they came to teach.
The Gut-Punch…
Every dog eventually breaks your heart.
Not because they failed you.
Because they succeeded.
They showed you what unconditional love feels like... and then reminded you that nothing worth loving lasts forever.
Source Credit:
Inspired by themes discussed in an Alan Watts commentary video on dogs, presence, awareness, grief, and the difference between living in thought and living in the moment. Research notes supplied by the author.
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I m sorry that you re dogless. I had the same decision thrust on me age 70 and I seriously considered the odds and got a pup. I m not a gambler ever so it was uncharaceristic but as a hermit I m taking the chance Ill still beat my cancer and be here for him. I m gaining on 80 and doing very well, with those great genes and good behaviour. If I dont make it he has a very loving home lined up with a bequest for his needs. After that, if I can still be on my own, Ill foster if they ll let me, probably an old or ill one. That will bring more pain but I cannot imagine living without a 4 legger. Family and friends all gone, it happens fast. A dog s love never waivers.
I am a long-time dog person. From my beagle Louie at my age of 14, to a sequence of 6 English springer spaniels, to 5 rough collies, I have been with dogs my entire life. They have taught me a lot. How to just 'be'. How to love, and how to accept love.How to say 'so long, we will meet again'. I openly admit that I need their unconditional love. Few humans are capable of that. To my great surprise, and endless gratitude, I met a man who is capable of that, as I am, and we have shared 3 1/2 years together thus far. My dogs love him and he loves them. I am blessed.