As I write this, there is a dog patrolling my yard – at 100 miles an hour – wearing a path as he chases birds and squirrels with his tongue hanging out and joy in his eyes. Just like Murdock used to do. Last week, I woke up sore in the middle of the night because another dog had methodically been wriggling and pushing me to a corner of my bed, while she took over the rest. Just like Murdock. A couple of months ago, another dog was barking at me in my kitchen, trying to communicate a message I clearly failed to understand.  Just like Murdock. 

In the last couple of years, I have been dogsitting. I was hesitant to say yes the first time I was asked – I wasn’t sure I was ready to open my heart in the way I knew I would to a dog staying with me.  When I meet a dog, it becomes a mission to make them love me. During their visits, my four-legged pals go for walks, I make them dog ice cream, they get snuffle mats and homemade treats, they receive endless attention, and of course, they sleep in my bed. Murdock was the center of my world – and any dog in my home is treated the same. 

Do I love that toys are scattered around my living room?  Yes. Do I love the muddy footprints on my floor and nose prints on my windows? Yes. Do I love getting to know each of these wonderful souls? Yes.  But can it be difficult? It can.

I am only able to open my heart to these dogs because Murdock is not here. I am only pulling out all of the stops to get these pups to love me because I can no longer do so for Murdock. It is bittersweet. My heart is able to be happy – only because it was first broken. That’s a difficult place to be; to have happiness that is only possible because Murdock had to leave. 

I am not ready to call another dog my own – and I don’t know if I ever will be. But having a dog in my house again helps me to appreciate Murdock’s quirky, perfect self. That dog racing through my yard – he is too busy to lay down.  Murdock loved nothing more than a nap in the grass. The squirrely bed hog – she loves everyone and everything and cannot be close enough to me.  Murdock was fiercely independent.  The pup who resorted to barking at me when I did not understand? He is a curly-haired, smiling doodle.  Murdock was a sleek, floppy-eared black lab who was intently serious most of the time. Like people, dogs have such unique personalities and habits – and having these new dogs in my life has made me realize even more how truly special Murdock was. And how lucky I am that we shared a life together.

My dog friends bring out the best in me.  The patient, caring, fun, grateful me. The parts of me that are there only because I first got to be Murdock’s mom.