companion

I put up a request on my Facebook page last week for people to share pictures of the pets that supported them through divorce. The submissions were equal parts heartwarming and heartbreaking and throughout, it was extremely clear how important our pets are to our mental health. My favorite pictures were the ones that demonstrated the bond between human and animal; some were powerful images that truly captured the connection. It’s amazing how much joy and comfort these dogs, cats, guinea pigs and even a turtle have brought to the darkest days.

Some shared sad stories about losing their pets in the process of divorce. Those were hard to read because that is still the biggest pain I hold from my own spilt.

Nine years ago, my then-husband left the home while I was on a trip. He didn’t send the text that he was leaving (I guess he needs a lesson on verb tenses) until one to two days later. In the meantime, the three dogs and one cat that we had were locked in the basement with insufficient food and water.

If he hadn’t sent that text, I probably would have returned home from my trip to find them deceased. Thankfully, the notice allowed a local – and priceless – friend to check on the animals and ensure they were taken care of until I arrived back home half a day later.

It was a bittersweet reunion with my pack. I loved them so much and yet, as the reality of my precarious situation made itself clear over the next few days, I also knew that I was no longer able to care for them. Damn. Just writing that still brings the tears. I still feel guilt over my inability to fulfill my promises to them. I still turn over the facts in my mind wondering if there was a way that I could have found a space where I could have lived with them and found a way to pay for their needs. The reality of that time was that I was barely able to care for myself (emotionally, physically or financially). It would have been a disaster for all involved if I assumed the responsibility for the well-being of others at that point.

With the tireless help of friends and family, the three dogs found new homes. Good homes. The cat stayed with me in the priceless friend’s guest room. We were refugees together. When she died from complications of old age a few years ago, it was as though a part of me went too.

My canine savior came in later, just after the divorce was finalized. His name was Tiger, a spirited, strong and wise soul tucked inside one hundred pounds of beautiful pit bull. When we met, I was still struggling. I was so scared. Not of him, but of loving and losing again. I was still unable to trust my perceptions and my instincts after years of gaslighting and so I doubted my ability to handle him in public.

He knew all of this, in the way that dogs do. But he didn’t judge me for it or tell me to get over it. He just stayed by my side, teaching me that he could be trusted. Showing me that I was capable of more than I thought. And giving me unconditional love in a time when I still felt unlovable. He rescued me.

We lost Tiger suddenly and traumatically last fall. It was too soon. Isn’t it always? It was such a hard day, but I’m glad that I could be there for him at the end. It helped with some of the residual guilt from before.

Kazh came into our lives a short time later. It’s been fascinating to see how different I am with him because I’m in such a better place. Tiger was my teacher. Kazh is getting the benefit of those lessons.

And that’s how it is with our pets. For their brief times, they live beside us through it all. They see the truth behind the picket fences yet withhold judgment, they offer affection when the whole world turns its back and they display a loyalty and fidelity that few humans can match.

They are the dogs (and cats and guinea pigs and turtles) of our lives. Making the good times a little sweeter and helping to guide us through the hard times.

If you have an animal in your life that has helped you through, give them a little kiss of gratitude today. If you’ve lost one, pause for a moment and say, “thank you” for sharing your time with me.

We had two dates set up for Wednesday evening.

The first was with a ten-month-old male. His owner needed to part ways with him after the trauma of a breakup and a cancer diagnosis. The other was with a young adult female who had been described by the animal control officer who picked her up as, “The best dog in the world.”

On the ninety-minute drive to meet the puppy, I mentioned to my husband that I was way more nervous about these dates than I had ever been about a date with a man. After all, on my human dates, the only thing at stake was the possibility of another date. A commitment that extended for a few hours and maybe made the decision to end things a little more messy.

But with a dog?

The stakes are much higher.

It’s less, “Hey, I think I like you and I would like to see you again” and more, “Well, you seem pretty cool. How about you move in with me for the next ten years?”

Other than that, the process is pretty similar, whether the companion sought is human or canine. The brief paragraphs describing the potential partner are read and re-read, carefully analyzing the words chosen. The pictures are scanned, trying to determine chemistry and attraction through a few static pixels. Memories of the former partner keep rising to the surface and with them, the inevitable comparisons that you keep swatting away in an attempt to keep your vision and perceptions clear.

Upon meeting, your senses are on high alert, trying to both take in your first impressions and also carefully monitoring for any red flags. There’s the usual awkwardness, as you’re trying to pair up rhythms and form tentative tendrils of nascent trust. There’s the exploratory dance with its unspoken questions: “Do you like me? Do you think we could make this thing work?” and its silent answers: “I do. I think so.”

There’s the strange mix of excitement for the rush of new love and trepidation for changing the status quo. The underlying and pervasion question of, “Am I doing the right thing?” And the fear, that sits heavy in the gut, of opening the heart again when the pain of loss is still so fresh.

We finally pulled up outside the address that was given to us for the first date. We sat in the car, waiting for the reply to the text saying that we had arrived.

I had conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I wanted the dog to clearly not be a good match so that the decision was already made for us. On the other hand, I wanted the dog to be a perfect fit for our family so that we could begin the process of sharing our lives with a pup again. Of course, what I wanted had no bearing on what we were going to find once we went through that door.

The date went well.

Very well.

Within a few minutes, he was responding to my husband’s corrections and a few minutes after that, he climbed into my lap and proceeded to initiate a make-out session.

Apparently, he had made his decision.

And a few minutes later, we made ours.

Welcome to the family, Kazh:)