Life Lessons from my Dog
I lost my 16-year-old dog recently. I got him shortly after I graduated from the University of South Carolina. Graduation was in December 2008, and my sweet child on four legs, Mr. Bennet, was born the following month, on January 15, 2009. He was a handsome chocolate brown and white cockapoo. I chose his breed because it felt right coming after years of proudly yelling “Go Cocks” at football, basketball, and baseball games. Odd reason, I know. It made sense to the young woman at the time. Just don’t call him a cockapoo within earshot; he preferred mutt because he wasn’t about that designer breed life.
Baby pictures? I might have way too many. Any toy he looked at? He got it. You should have seen his collection (all of which was donated to a local no-kill shelter). Bow tie collars for each season and holiday? Absolutely! He was, after all, named after a Pride and Prejudice character, and gentlemen wear bow ties. I should note that South Carolina gentlemen also wear bow ties. I spoiled him rotten, but what I got back was exponential. He helped a 22-year-old girl grow into the person I am today.
It's surprising that many people don't realize that puppies and adopted adult dogs don't come to us already perfectly behaved and well-trained. It's disheartening to see adult dogs being put up for adoption because their owners couldn't handle them (Spoiler alert: Retrievers have puppy energy until about they are about five years old). Dogs require a significant amount of time and patience. Early on, I made a conscious decision not to resort to fear or physical punishment when my dog misbehaved. Instead, I embraced the learning process and leaned on my patience to understand and address his needs. It was a journey of constant learning, but it taught me the value of patience and the significance of playing the long game, highlighting the vast difference between life and instant gratification. This experience made me realize the importance of providing love, care, and understanding to our animal companions, as well as the rewarding nature of the bond that develops through patience and dedication.
Dogs are funny and (for the most part) brilliant animals. They also give their humans unconditional love, and Mr. Bennet was no different with me. After a particularly bad argument with an ex-boyfriend, he did what he could do best as a dog: laid across my head while I cried. There was no judgment from him, just love and compassion. He felt in that moment that I needed comfort and him being close. As I have grown up, I have learned to do the same for my friends. Well, I do not lay across their heads but be there for them in any way they need me. One of the most valuable lessons from Mr. Bennet is to meet people where they are and listen to them with compassion and empathy. By acknowledging their feelings and being present in the moment, we can build stronger relationships and positively impact each other’s lives. Yes, I learned all of that from a dog, my dog. It’s all so easy to hear when the message is not critical or judgmental but instead nourishing and loving.
Mr. Bennet had a huge personality and was almost human. I know what you are thinking—every dog owner says that, and good for us, it’s probably true. However, Mr. Bennet had this air about him. While he took his appearance seriously (he enjoyed his bow ties and a fresh haircut), he didn’t take life that way. When he saw a body of water, he ran to it like a rocket. Thank goodness he had a water dog in him and was a natural-born swimmer.
A few years ago, my sister-in-law Jessi and I embarked on a memorable journey along the stunning Road to Hana on Maui. As we navigated the winding road, we stumbled upon a secluded pull-off that revealed a hidden gem—a private swimming hole adorned with a cascading waterfall. The allure of the crystal-clear water beckoned us, and we found ourselves deliberating whether to take the plunge. In that moment, Jessi remarked that my adventurous dog, Mr. B, would have fearlessly leaped into the water without hesitation. Inspired by that reminder, we cast aside our reservations and immersed ourselves in the oasis, reveling in 30 minutes of pure bliss. To this day, Jessi and I fondly reminisce about that spontaneous escapade. Reflecting on the experience, it dawned on me that the valuable lesson transcends mere s a reminder to embrace life with a carefree attitude. This philosophy, gleaned from the wisdom of my beloved dog, continues to resonate deeply within me.
Grief. Let me start by saying this: Grief sucks. Ugly crying and wanting to do nothing while feeling the weight of the world is a lot of it; it’s particularly bad when the one who usually helps with such heartbreak is the one who is gone. It’s a short word that encompasses layers upon layers of emotions that come in waves. Grief is an intricate and deeply personal journey that accompanies loss, whether it be the passing of a loved one, the end of a relationship, or a significant life change. It manifests uniquely for each individual, encompassing a range of emotions such as sadness, anger, disbelief, and even moments of peace. While it may feel overwhelming at times, acknowledging and allowing oneself to experience grief is a vital step toward healing and eventual acceptance. Feeling the rock-bottom depths of human sadness is “normal”. It is extremely difficult to explain that empty, unrelenting pain that stabs your entire body. It just won’t go away. I kept being told after Mr. Bennet’s death that it would get better, easier, or insert whatever other frilly, positive word you want there, but it always felt empty. It didn’t get better. I was sad and mad and didn’t want flowery language. It wasn’t until one of my best friends told me that it doesn’t actually get better; we just get through it. We learn to cope with the most complex thing: grief. That felt honest and true. That allowed me to feel all of the feelings.
Losing Mr. Bennet was a pivotal moment in my life that profoundly impacted me. It taught me the invaluable lesson of recognizing when to reach out for assistance. Moreover, it highlighted the significance of allowing myself the opportunity to seek solace and reflection when my thoughts and emotions require attention. This period of solitude has been instrumental in helping me compartmentalize and come to terms with my grief in a constructive manner. As a result, I have been able to return to reality with a newfound sense of mental clarity and emotional balance.
This has been the most complicated piece I have ever written. Research papers with dozens of academic citations that are ten pages longer have been easier to write than this. It’s also been good for me to put into words some of the lessons he taught me and his impact on my life. There isn’t a day that I don’t think of my sweet baby angel. There also isn’t a day that I’m not thankful for every second I had with him, and I would do it all over again. Animals are extraordinary creatures that have the capacity to teach us more about ourselves than maybe we sometimes wish. And yes, I learned that from a dog, too—my dog.
You’re still my boy, Boo.
