LOVE this so much. Yes, I've had at least one dog in my life from the age of 22. In the last 10 years or so, I've moved to two at the same time. In 2018, I lost Hazel, at 5 years old, due to congenital issues that couldn't be helped. 5 years old. I have her little brother, Hugo, who will be 11 this summer. I adopted Maisy 3 weeks after Hazel died. She's so different; Hazel's exact opposite in many ways. Skittish and timid versus Hazel's take charge alpha funny personality. And I adore her. And daily, I miss Hazel, who made me laugh like no other dog who's shared my home. Even when they die, they don't leave, so 7 years after the loss, the sadness has dimmed, but the love has survived. And they're all so different, one from the other, and I cherish those differences. They are unique. xo
Chica is a lucky girl - she and your love will always be partners. I believe that dogs find us - and she surely found her family niche. Casey, that sweet boy, is willing to share it. And while she will never, ever replace him, or take the love that is firmly his, she has discovered that she can have her own, you have enough. You will always have enough, the replenishment of the well is assured. The throne is a throne indeed. Welcome, dear Chica.
A beautiful essay, Rona. I understand those mixed feelings about loving a 'new' dog when the one you lost was so very precious. When our Weimaraner, Dill, died suddenly aged 13, I was reluctant to get a "replacement" at first, but Ian and our son were both keen, so we quite quickly got Popeye, a lurcher, who is the most fantastic dog, beloved by the whole family. He is now 13 and slowing down, so I am very mindful we may not have him for very much longer. But we all appreciate him so much. There's a photo of Dill on the wall, who the grandchildren never met, but I like that they are curious to know about her.
Dill! What an interesting name for a dog (I always have a bunch in the fridge). I wish you many happy walks and snuggles with Popeye. Btw, Chica is a lurcher, as was Casey.
My first true dog love was a Weimaraner, Nova. She was beautiful, smart, friendly yet protective, and she lives on in rosy family memory, and in the odd snapshot from 1974 or 75. She lived to the 1984, when I was already living in New York City. My older brother had inherited the rental house we'd all called home, along with Nova, and had to handle the final vet visit. What a guy. She still gallops by in a silvery dream dash every few years or so.
Weimaraners are so beautiful aren't they, Jennifer? Glad you still have those family photos and memories of Nova.
I was struck by what an escape artist Dill was – she could leap any fence. And by her pointing. We'd be stuck by a hedge for seemingly hours while she pointed at a particular spot. And she really was a hunter. I have never been more mortified than when she snaffled next door's guinea pig which had escaped from its hutch. That was a very awkward conversation with the neighbour.
My poor neighbour asked if there were any remains so she could have a burial. I had to confess no. Dill had kept the dead guinea pig stubbornly clamped in her jaws for the remainder of our walk and finally deposited what was left of it in a hedgerow. I don't think I have ever been more embarrassed.
Nova loved running through the neighborhood canyons, chasing and following me, and would thrill at finding me if I hid. Such a beautiful sweet friend she was.
I feel it . The mention of his name, drip of a memory, stills my heart. Arlo . He loved me so much. My fear is Teddy won't. Not the way Arlo did. He's adorable, easy and Almost Arlo. We've only been together 2 months. But maybe he's looking at me waiting to not see Arlo.
Oh how I could relate to this post. I grew up with dogs my whole life and I’m currently on my third as Mom to the dog. When my first golden retriever died unexpectedly I lasted about five months before we rescued another. And I remember days later, after this one year old dog ate my shoes (clearly not the dog I missed, the one who meshed with our family and knew the routine), feeling regret and wondering: What have I done? Months later, I got to know that sweet boy for who he was. He learned the routine. Outgrew his chewy phase. And became my best boy.
Only six years later, so cruelly, he too got cancer and was gone days after its discovery. That time I lasted 9 days before adopting my boy Chase. That time I said no more goldens. Chase is a mixed breed, part smooth collie, part Shepherd. Days later, when he destroyed our couch, I thought: What have I done? And again, once I accepted him for who he was, once he acclimated and trusted us (he’d been abused) he became our beloved boy. He was the hardest to know and at 16 plus, he’s now lived almost as long as my other two combined. Now we help him up and down stairs. We are mostly home bound caring for him. He’s no golden. He’s not as playful or affectionate or easygoing. But he is sweet and funny and we love him dearly. Each dog is unique and I’ve no doubt one day you’ll realize Chica is completely part of the family.
“What have I done?” Chica has sparked that thought; Casey never did. We were so green with him, we had no idea what an unusually easy dog he was. With Chica, who has yet to eat anything bigger than a coaster, meeting the challenge will be part of the love. Thank you for sharing your beloved dogs with us.
Years after divorcing the father of my children because of his alcoholic abuse and after over 20 years of marriage, literally growing up together, I married a man who loved me just as I was and made me feel treasured. I've had many dogs and cats and still have favorites, but as you say, in the end, it is best to love the one your with. I've read Starter Dog, Rona. You might want to reread, as I recall it took you awhile to fall for Casey. There seems to be a universal truth that the dead acquire a strange sainthood in their absence that wasn't there when they were with us. I am hoping with you and I love the photo on the Caravaggio chair! She seems to know how much it means to you.
Thank you, Leslie—for your tender thoughts and for reading Starter Dog, which I am not ready to revisit. I am starting to love my quirky, brassy girl, who is under the weather right now and needing extra attention. I like your observation about the “sainthood” of the dead.
First the Caravaggio chair---what next? A calypso and soca soundtrack at dinner? Seems like she's sneaking into your heart through the back door!
I can just imagine the stories Chica would share with her neighbourhood pals from Antigua about condo life and all the new things she gets to eat: Taffeta! Challis scarves!
And those cool crimson glasses---here's a shortie for you. One of my ex-girlfriend's many moons ago had a gorgeous wolfhound named Jackson. When my ex's mother came to visit from Glasgow, Jackson seemed oddly preoccupied in the backyard. They called to him to see what was of such great interest. He proudly flashed a smile---he was wearing the mother's dentures! Well, half of them. He'd eaten a few teeth. So, there's that.
As I read this, I thought of each of the dogs I have loved and lost. Only one was what one of Anne Tyler's characters called "the dog of my heart." The saving grace is exactly what you convey here: that each relationship is its own thing. One does not have to feel like another or diminish another. They are all real and special.
I'll be interested in following your journey with Chica as it unfolds. I wonder what the piece you write in a year will tell us. Also: as you discovered with Casey who was also a rescue dog and not a puppy -- every three months for at least a year, you get a new dog. Layers fall away, new things rise to the surface for both dog and human. I wish you all good things.
Betsy, what a lovely observation about a new dog every three months. It seems to be true. Casey went through quite a few changes with us, and Chica, after three months, is not the same minx who arrived one icy day in February.
Rona, I love the way you write about your dogs. Such a profound connection between human and canine. Though I have only been the auntie to the dogs and friends and family, I have watched loved ones fall in love all over again. And though it is different, it is another example of beautiful.
Thank you for sharing your examples of beautiful .
This is a lovely tribute to both Chica and Casey that I can relate to. When our senior cat died many years ago, we decided to wait a year to get a new one. Ha! Never go to a pet fair 'just to look'. We came home with a two-year-old orange tabby a few months after Smokey died. At first, it was like looking into the green eyes of a stranger. Now, she rules the house and has us wrapped around her little paw.
Everytime I fostered a dog, I said I would never fall in love, then I did! As each foster went to a new home, grief would fill the empty spot until a new life pushed out that grief. The new life would be so different than the one before that the difference would be jolting. Once I settled into the ways of the newcomer, my love began to pour - not a love for all things from before, but a love for the things we didn't have before. Dogs have a way of stealing hearts.
I get to give everyone who asks about her name a mini history lesson in photojournalism. In 10 years, only five people have known Margeret Bourke-White. All were either artists or journalists.
LOVE this so much. Yes, I've had at least one dog in my life from the age of 22. In the last 10 years or so, I've moved to two at the same time. In 2018, I lost Hazel, at 5 years old, due to congenital issues that couldn't be helped. 5 years old. I have her little brother, Hugo, who will be 11 this summer. I adopted Maisy 3 weeks after Hazel died. She's so different; Hazel's exact opposite in many ways. Skittish and timid versus Hazel's take charge alpha funny personality. And I adore her. And daily, I miss Hazel, who made me laugh like no other dog who's shared my home. Even when they die, they don't leave, so 7 years after the loss, the sadness has dimmed, but the love has survived. And they're all so different, one from the other, and I cherish those differences. They are unique. xo
Nan, this means so much. You have learned to cherish the differences, as I am starting to do. I thought it would be easier.
Loved the photo of Chica on the chair!
Thank you. Seeing her there makes me happy.
Chica is a lucky girl - she and your love will always be partners. I believe that dogs find us - and she surely found her family niche. Casey, that sweet boy, is willing to share it. And while she will never, ever replace him, or take the love that is firmly his, she has discovered that she can have her own, you have enough. You will always have enough, the replenishment of the well is assured. The throne is a throne indeed. Welcome, dear Chica.
So reassuringly put. Thank you!
A beautiful essay, Rona. I understand those mixed feelings about loving a 'new' dog when the one you lost was so very precious. When our Weimaraner, Dill, died suddenly aged 13, I was reluctant to get a "replacement" at first, but Ian and our son were both keen, so we quite quickly got Popeye, a lurcher, who is the most fantastic dog, beloved by the whole family. He is now 13 and slowing down, so I am very mindful we may not have him for very much longer. But we all appreciate him so much. There's a photo of Dill on the wall, who the grandchildren never met, but I like that they are curious to know about her.
Dill! What an interesting name for a dog (I always have a bunch in the fridge). I wish you many happy walks and snuggles with Popeye. Btw, Chica is a lurcher, as was Casey.
Yay for lurchers! Dill was named after Dill the Dog from the old animated children's TV Series The Herbs!
My first true dog love was a Weimaraner, Nova. She was beautiful, smart, friendly yet protective, and she lives on in rosy family memory, and in the odd snapshot from 1974 or 75. She lived to the 1984, when I was already living in New York City. My older brother had inherited the rental house we'd all called home, along with Nova, and had to handle the final vet visit. What a guy. She still gallops by in a silvery dream dash every few years or so.
Weimaraners are so beautiful aren't they, Jennifer? Glad you still have those family photos and memories of Nova.
I was struck by what an escape artist Dill was – she could leap any fence. And by her pointing. We'd be stuck by a hedge for seemingly hours while she pointed at a particular spot. And she really was a hunter. I have never been more mortified than when she snaffled next door's guinea pig which had escaped from its hutch. That was a very awkward conversation with the neighbour.
But she was a lovely dog!
Oh, dear! The poor guinea pig. Poor, embarrassed you.
My poor neighbour asked if there were any remains so she could have a burial. I had to confess no. Dill had kept the dead guinea pig stubbornly clamped in her jaws for the remainder of our walk and finally deposited what was left of it in a hedgerow. I don't think I have ever been more embarrassed.
No words. I feel for everyone involved.
Thanks Rona. I'm a gentle non-hunting pacifist, so I think myself and the neighbour were both traumatised!
Lurchers can also be hunters of course, but luckily Popeye has a very gentle streak and has never tested the boundaries in the same way.
Nova loved running through the neighborhood canyons, chasing and following me, and would thrill at finding me if I hid. Such a beautiful sweet friend she was.
I so wish commenters could post photos of their dogs. Nova sounds like a gem. Maybe one day Casey will come to me in a dream.
I feel it . The mention of his name, drip of a memory, stills my heart. Arlo . He loved me so much. My fear is Teddy won't. Not the way Arlo did. He's adorable, easy and Almost Arlo. We've only been together 2 months. But maybe he's looking at me waiting to not see Arlo.
Oh how I could relate to this post. I grew up with dogs my whole life and I’m currently on my third as Mom to the dog. When my first golden retriever died unexpectedly I lasted about five months before we rescued another. And I remember days later, after this one year old dog ate my shoes (clearly not the dog I missed, the one who meshed with our family and knew the routine), feeling regret and wondering: What have I done? Months later, I got to know that sweet boy for who he was. He learned the routine. Outgrew his chewy phase. And became my best boy.
Only six years later, so cruelly, he too got cancer and was gone days after its discovery. That time I lasted 9 days before adopting my boy Chase. That time I said no more goldens. Chase is a mixed breed, part smooth collie, part Shepherd. Days later, when he destroyed our couch, I thought: What have I done? And again, once I accepted him for who he was, once he acclimated and trusted us (he’d been abused) he became our beloved boy. He was the hardest to know and at 16 plus, he’s now lived almost as long as my other two combined. Now we help him up and down stairs. We are mostly home bound caring for him. He’s no golden. He’s not as playful or affectionate or easygoing. But he is sweet and funny and we love him dearly. Each dog is unique and I’ve no doubt one day you’ll realize Chica is completely part of the family.
“What have I done?” Chica has sparked that thought; Casey never did. We were so green with him, we had no idea what an unusually easy dog he was. With Chica, who has yet to eat anything bigger than a coaster, meeting the challenge will be part of the love. Thank you for sharing your beloved dogs with us.
Hah! nothing comes close to a rescue dog .. and maybe they also rescue us
We didn’t even consider going to a breeder.
Years after divorcing the father of my children because of his alcoholic abuse and after over 20 years of marriage, literally growing up together, I married a man who loved me just as I was and made me feel treasured. I've had many dogs and cats and still have favorites, but as you say, in the end, it is best to love the one your with. I've read Starter Dog, Rona. You might want to reread, as I recall it took you awhile to fall for Casey. There seems to be a universal truth that the dead acquire a strange sainthood in their absence that wasn't there when they were with us. I am hoping with you and I love the photo on the Caravaggio chair! She seems to know how much it means to you.
Thank you, Leslie—for your tender thoughts and for reading Starter Dog, which I am not ready to revisit. I am starting to love my quirky, brassy girl, who is under the weather right now and needing extra attention. I like your observation about the “sainthood” of the dead.
First the Caravaggio chair---what next? A calypso and soca soundtrack at dinner? Seems like she's sneaking into your heart through the back door!
I can just imagine the stories Chica would share with her neighbourhood pals from Antigua about condo life and all the new things she gets to eat: Taffeta! Challis scarves!
And those cool crimson glasses---here's a shortie for you. One of my ex-girlfriend's many moons ago had a gorgeous wolfhound named Jackson. When my ex's mother came to visit from Glasgow, Jackson seemed oddly preoccupied in the backyard. They called to him to see what was of such great interest. He proudly flashed a smile---he was wearing the mother's dentures! Well, half of them. He'd eaten a few teeth. So, there's that.
Whoa! Chica’s antics are nowhere close to that.
As I read this, I thought of each of the dogs I have loved and lost. Only one was what one of Anne Tyler's characters called "the dog of my heart." The saving grace is exactly what you convey here: that each relationship is its own thing. One does not have to feel like another or diminish another. They are all real and special.
I'll be interested in following your journey with Chica as it unfolds. I wonder what the piece you write in a year will tell us. Also: as you discovered with Casey who was also a rescue dog and not a puppy -- every three months for at least a year, you get a new dog. Layers fall away, new things rise to the surface for both dog and human. I wish you all good things.
Betsy, what a lovely observation about a new dog every three months. It seems to be true. Casey went through quite a few changes with us, and Chica, after three months, is not the same minx who arrived one icy day in February.
Rona, I love the way you write about your dogs. Such a profound connection between human and canine. Though I have only been the auntie to the dogs and friends and family, I have watched loved ones fall in love all over again. And though it is different, it is another example of beautiful.
Thank you for sharing your examples of beautiful .
Holly, you understand beauty in your bones. Thank you.
Gah! What a wonderful compliment.
This is a lovely tribute to both Chica and Casey that I can relate to. When our senior cat died many years ago, we decided to wait a year to get a new one. Ha! Never go to a pet fair 'just to look'. We came home with a two-year-old orange tabby a few months after Smokey died. At first, it was like looking into the green eyes of a stranger. Now, she rules the house and has us wrapped around her little paw.
There’s something ineffably consoling about gazing into a pet’s eyes. And I had to smile at the thought of visiting a pet fair just to look.
what a gorgeous meditation on loss and the rebirth of love.
The heart wants what the heart wants!! Here’s to many years of the unconditional love only our animals can provide♥️
And we get to love them unconditionally. For me that’s the best part.
Everytime I fostered a dog, I said I would never fall in love, then I did! As each foster went to a new home, grief would fill the empty spot until a new life pushed out that grief. The new life would be so different than the one before that the difference would be jolting. Once I settled into the ways of the newcomer, my love began to pour - not a love for all things from before, but a love for the things we didn't have before. Dogs have a way of stealing hearts.
Cindy, great point about the love for things you didn’t have before. Thank you.
Hi Rona. It looks like Amazement Seeker was hacked.
Yikes. I just looked and couldn’t find anything amiss. Perhaps I am looking in the wrong place? Thanks for alert.
I’ll take a screen shot. It came in as Amazement Seeker with your name. When I scrolled, it was clearly a spam hack.
Thank you.
Nice article. We have had several dogs this is MaggieBW she is named after the photojournalist Margaret Bourk-White:
https://photos.app.goo.gl/i22xFexwdZXASanY8
A distinguished dog to carry such a name!
I get to give everyone who asks about her name a mini history lesson in photojournalism. In 10 years, only five people have known Margeret Bourke-White. All were either artists or journalists.
I have seen her work in museums but more importantly in Life magazine throughout my childhood.