On Dogs

Tell us a little about your current dog: how did you come to get him? What’s the backstory?

I think I’ll talk about my current dog, Tucker, and then the dog that came right before him, Simon. And I’ll start with Simon . . . I got Simon as a puppy in 2002. The backstory is that I had just left my marriage with a man named Chip. The rug was sort of pulled out from under me. I sought some counseling to help me through this traumatic event, and one of the things the therapist said was, “I want you to get a dog.” 

 

At first I was really quite puzzled by it—I thought somewhat incredulously, “Of all of the things I’m dealing with now, you want me to go get a dog?” But she explained that by taking care of a dog, we innately take better care of ourselves. She said, essentially, you’re going to be living by yourself, you’ve had this really difficult life event, I think this will be the best thing you can do for yourself.

 

So I listened to the advice, and did a little research on what kind of dog I wanted. I knew I didn’t want a really large dog because I lived in a townhouse, and knew that the dog would not be able to run free. I figured a smaller dog would be easier, and [my place] would be able to give him or her nice, necessary exercise. And I also wanted a dog that was not real high strung because they were going to be home alone most of the day while I was working, without any kids in the house to play with and such. I ended up arriving on the cockapoo breed, and found a breeder—and found Simon. 

 

When I went to pick him out, there was a litter of these little fur balls, they were the cutest things I could ever even imagine. I thought “How am I going to be able to pick one?” One wasn’t cuter than the next—they were all so perfect. I just decided to relax, and maybe one would pick me so to speak . . . and that’s exactly what happened. The dog that I eventually named Simon kind of huddled around me, and all these other dogs were much more energetic and rambunctious. They were running and playing, and Simon just stuck by me. He didn’t seem to want to engage with the other puppies, he was much more docile—almost shy. So, I ended up bringing him home and it was such a blessing in disguise because he turned out to be exactly that. Very docile, you know, you’d throw a ball and he might go get it if he’s in the mood, but not like dogs who fight for it and chase it. 

 

He was perfect for me. I was going through my own emotional healing and Simon was a real comfort . . . he was happy just hanging out on the couch with me, I took him everywhere with me. He was like my little buddy. When I would put him in the car, again, he would just go in the back seat and lay down—he didn’t even care to look out of the window. You know most dogs want to look out and see what’s going on? Not Simon. He did not care. I could take him on road trips to visit friends, he would just sleep in the back seat. I took him to Nantucket to see my parents on vacation; he went on a ferry with me and just kind of lounged around. 

 

So, long story short, he ended up being the best personality for me. He also had a lot of toys—soft toys. Most dogs will rip out the stuffing of those, and you end up throwing them out. Yeah, not Simon. He would just kind of mouth the toys, he never chewed them. He would just play very delicately with them, and that was really nice, too, because his toys lasted forever. 

 

Simon lived to be almost fifteen and a half, and losing him was incredibly difficult. For many years it was just Simon and me—it helped me get my life back in order, you know, just having some little thing to take of. I loved coming home every day to see him there, he was really a lifesaver for me. After we put him down, I said to myself, I’m never going through this grief again, I’m not getting another dog. But, after some time, I found that I really missed having a dog . . . and nine months later, I started looking for another. 

 

I knew I wanted another cockapoo, and so I found Tucker. While I thought he was also docile—the one that seemed the most docile, because I had great luck with Simon—we quickly called him the “bait and switch.” As soon as we got him home, he’s been the complete opposite of Simon. He’s feisty. He barks. He chews his toys, and rips them apart. He’s interested in what’s going on outside through every window—whether it’s a home window or a car window. We also call him Bob Barker because he just has to bark at everything.

 

You know, it’s so funny when I think back: Simon never barked. He’d see other dogs and people, and never bark. This dog now barks 24/7. Of course, we still love him just as much, but it’s a great example of how their personalities can be completely different.

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Had your family always been “a dog family”—or dog friendly? What was the impetus for getting a dog in the first place?

My Mom had tried to get a few dogs when we were little, but none of them lasted. They weren’t puppies—they were dogs that we either adopted or that somebody couldn’t take care of so they came to us . . . we may have only had them for a couple of weeks. Our first real dog was Kale, the boxer, and we got him when all of my siblings were in high school and college. I loved him, but because I was older I didn’t really view him as “my dog”, per se. It wasn’t the same relationship, you know, my Mom primarily took care of him. Whereas when I got Simon, it was a brand-new experience. It was like he was my child.

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What’s your favorite memory with all of your dogs?

Right now, my favorite thing with Tucker is that he, like most dogs, will follow us around everywhere when we’re at home. He has to be in the same room with us. The only difference is that if we’re upstairs, he might rather be downstairs looking out of our floor-to-ceiling windows because he’s watching a squirrel. But for the most part, he likes to be in whatever room we’re in. 

 

What I’m about to tell you is really kind of touching. Early on, we decided we didn’t want him sleeping in our bed. We didn’t want to introduce that concept to him once, and then have him get hooked. So, we put a small bed for him in our room and when he graduated from his crate, he would go into the bed in our room. The only problem was that sometimes he would roll around in the bed or incessantly scratch himself, and wake us up. I thought, I wonder if I could train him to sleep in a different bedroom.

 

And then I thought, fat chance, this dog always wants to be where we are. But, Nick, I don’t know how it happened, but I put an extra furry, soft blanket on one of the beds in our guest room and I just started slow. For instance, I brought a treat up there when we went to bed one night and I said “OK! Go to your room, time to go night night!” And within two nights—two nights!—he got it down. Now, he will race up the stairs, go into that bedroom, jump up on the bed, and go to sleep. Even though my husband, Greg, and I go down the hall to our room. He has never once strayed from that bed. He sleeps there all night until morning when he comes into our room and wakes us up. He’s our alarm clock. It’s the funniest thing—I just have to say, “time to go night night!” and up the stairs he goes. And it’s only at night. He never goes up to that room during the day.

 

My favorite anecdote with Simon involves his toys—in fact, one toy in particular. Tucker doesn’t really have a favorite toy, he will chew on anything hard. I can’t give him anything soft, he will rip it to shreds. As I mentioned, though, Simon never chewed hard things. He had a big toy basket full of soft ones and his favorite one was this little dog beanie baby that we named “Pee-wee.” 

 

He absolutely loved Pee-wee, he had to have him all the time—especially when he went to bed. I’d say “OK, Simon, time to go to bed” and he would pretty much always already have Pee-wee in his mouth ready to go. Pee-wee was like his security blanket. On the rare occasion that he would come into the bedroom without him, all I had to say was “Where’s Pee-wee?”, and he’d look at me inquisitively. I’d say, “You better go get him!”, and he would literally tear down the stairs to find where he had left him. Within two minutes he would be back with Pee-wee in his mouth, ready for bed. I always thought it was so cute and fascinating—not only did he know what the word Pee-wee meant, but he also knew that he needed it for bedtime.

 

Now that he’s gone, most of his toys have been commandeered and destroyed by Tucker, but I saved Pee-wee. He is happily stored in my t-shirt drawer.

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What’s one thing that you know today that you wouldn’t have known without your dogs?

I think one thing that I wouldn’t have really known without the dogs is the powerful force they are in bringing humans together. I’m a social person with my friends, but I was always of the mind that when I’m home, I’m home. I don’t want to be best friends with my neighbors—I don’t really want to talk to them. I want to pull in the garage, put the door down, and go inside. And, I think it was always a fear that if I get too friendly with my neighbors, I’m always going to feel like I have to be outside doing something with them—or, I wouldn’t be able to have people over without the neighbors asking why they weren’t invited. So, I kind of like to keep my distance. 

 

But what I learned from having both Simon and Tucker is that you forge a neat connection with other “dog people.” Sometimes you don’t even know their names, and you don’t really ask. You might be walking on a street in a neighborhood that is not even close to your house, but if someone is out with their dog, they always stop so the dogs can say hello. The humans make small talk, but interestingly, they very rarely introduce themselves. But, you might see them every day—or every other day—and you know them by face. It’s like dogs enable humans to talk to each other with no fear—they’re like a buffer. Until I got a dog, I didn’t realize what a connecting force they can be for humans.

 

I also didn’t realize the power of non-verbal behavior. Before I got a dog, I knew that humans had it—they fold their arms, roll their eyes, etc. But dogs are so much more powerful. Say, I’m sitting on the couch and sad, even if I’m not crying but something is on my mind. Both Simon and Tucker would know. They’d instinctively jump up on my lap and snuggle with me. I think that sometimes we give off more non-verbal cues than we realize, and maybe dogs are just better at picking them up. It’s amazing.

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What has your relationship with dogs taught you? What has your dog given you?

Simon gave me companionship, he was like my child. He gave me comfort and purpose. A focus. He was someone I could talk to. There was a pleasant noise in the house, another living creature that kept me from ever feeling lonely. In fact, for quite a long time I didn’t even want to date. People would say, “Well, aren’t you lonely?” But no, not in the slightest. If I ever went on a bad date, I’d just look at my watch and couldn’t wait to get back home on the couch with Simon. That was always more fun to me. So, his gifts were friendship, companionship, a distraction—something to focus on—and just a little buddy. He was always my little buddy.

 

Tucker, again, the companionship is still there, but I would say that he just gives fun and laughs—he really makes me laugh a lot because he is so feisty and always in the mood to play. He has added a great level of humor to my life. In the nice weather Greg and I will take him over to the nearby park and let him off the leash and run. We might have a piece of bologna in our hands, and he will run back and forth in between us with his ears flopping in the wind. It’s just so great for all of us—a fun family thing to do.

 

I think the overriding thing that both dogs have given me is proving the idea that by taking care of a dog, you take better care of yourself. Physically. Emotionally. For example, you have to come home to feed your dogs, so you are not going to work too late or stay out too late with your friends. You are going to come home, feed the dogs, and then feed yourself. Also, you have to let your dog out. In so doing, you’re outside walking and exercising, and getting fresh air. It gets you outside and makes you more social. So, I think generally, by having a dog to take care of, we inadvertently take better care of ourselves.

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What would you say to someone that was contemplating getting a dog—or someone who was dog-skeptical? What would your pitch be? 

My pitch would be: If you do the research and make sure that you get the right dog for you and your lifestyle (so that you and the dog will be a good fit and be happy)—if you do that legwork—it is a decision you will never regret. Your life will infinitely change for the better. I would emphasize, though, that you get back what you put in. It’s not a decision to be taken lightly, it is a big commitment. While it’s not exactly like having a baby, there are a quite a bit of similarities. If you care for it right, and take the time to train it, it will be a wonderful lifelong companion. With a little bit of research, it can improve your life profoundly, and in ways that you couldn’t have even imagined. And in ways that no one can describe to you, until you do it yourself.

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