The Death of a Dog Changes You

It’s two years ago today that I said goodbye to Willow, our 6 year-old Aussie. She was, without a doubt, my heart dog, though the words “heart dog” really don’t even begin to describe my love for her. 

After two weeks of her being critically ill and six of those days spent in a critical care facility, we made the excruciating decision to euthanize her.

I have no words to adequately convey how empty and devastated I was. I felt as if I lost my heart when I lost her. 

I wanted to write about her then, and I wanted to write about her as the days stretched into weeks and months without her. Write about my feelings and the darkness of my world, which had turned to black and white. I wanted to express the pain I was experiencing and how much I missed her. I wanted to share with the world, in words, what an amazing dog she was. About how she not only changed my life, but the lives of so many others with her gift of being a canine teacher in our business. I wanted to write about the many lessons I learned from her. I wanted to honor her. 

But I wasn’t emotionally ready, for in order to write about her I had to remember. The memories brought so much pain each time I realized she was no longer by my side. Nor did I have the ability to describe the incredible gift I received having been her person: the person who loved her beyond measure and the person who received the depth of her never-ending, unconditional love. We were devoted to one another. I always said I loved her more than life itself. 

But time marched on. I wrote nothing. Then I felt guilty because I hadn’t honored her in a way I felt was fitting. Oh, the roller coaster of emotions!  

Her death changed me. But her life also changed me. 

So here I sit two years later, finally feeling ready to begin putting into words the emotions that have been swirling around in my heart for these past two years.

I plan to write a book about the learning journey with each of my dogs, the deaths of three young dogs, the deep and dark places I visited after their deaths and the uncanny way that immense grief and sorrow can lead to pure joy. It’s a love story filled with tragedy, anger, guilt, second-guessing and, ultimately, acceptance. It feels like an epic undertaking, and distilling it down to those few sentences doesn’t quite do it justice in my mind. 

Two years have given me the perspective I feel I need to embark on this writing journey to not only honor Willow, but the five other amazing dogs who have forever changed my life with their lives, and the important lessons each taught me: 

  • Abbey, our first dog, a stray we rescued, who lived to be 12 and who helped me learn about canine cognitive dysfunction. 
  • Carter, our first Aussie and my crossover dog, whose tragic death at 2 years old propelled me into professional dog training. 
  • Gibson, who helped me hone my professional training skills and who died at 8 years old. 
  • Cody, who rocked our world with behavior challenges early on and is thankfully still with us. 
  • Willow, who changed my life in more ways than I’ll likely be able to express, and whose death came way too soon. 
  • And Cailie, now 2 years of age, who has taught me to love again. 


It’s a funny thing, making an internal decision to write a book. It starts to feel real. And then it’s another thing to actually say it out loud. Yikes, it was scary! I had to slay some feelings of inadequacy before I could even mention my goal to family and friends (of course, they were all so supportive). 

Then I finally mustered up the courage to reach out to a few published authors and editors in the dog training industry. Thank you, Malena DeMartini, Eileen Anderson, John Visconti, Coleen Ellis, and Adrienne Hovey for your graciousness, support and wise counsel in regard to how to begin this process. I feel like the Lion in the Wizard of Oz who just gained his courage. 

I’m retooling, reorganizing my Doga Studio to allow space for writing (as well as dog training), and I’m making time to work on assignments to enhance my writing skills. 

Cailie in the Doga Studio

I’ve found myself again. It’s a been a long journey. 

Nora McInerny said in her TED Talk, “We don’t ‘move on’ from grief. We move forward with it.” 

I’m moving forward with trust that I have it in me to adequately share how each of my dogs’ lives and their deaths has made me a better person. 

It’s really a book for me. And maybe, when I finish it, it will be for you too. 


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