Years ago when I was in college, a moment during church led to my family welcoming home our first dog in over a decade. My Dad is a pastor, and we were all at church and he was leading the “Time for Children”. All the kids were sitting in the aisle for a segment of church where my dad makes the message of the sermon for the week approachable to kids. This particular week’s theme was around loss, and grief. To broach this topic with the younger kids, my dad used pets as a way for kids to connect with the idea of loss and love as many either had pets or experienced the loss of one.
In this “Time for Children” he asks them about their pets, about love, about if any have lost pets before, what that was like. He then asks, “how do you know when it’s okay to get a new pet after one dies?” The kids answer things like, right away, a few months, when you’re less sad, etc. My little brother is 10 years younger than me so back then he was one of the kiddos sitting cross-legged in that “Time for Children”. He pipes up, “so Dad, why has it been 10 years then since we’ve had a dog?” The congregation bursts into laughter. Called out. Here’s my dad using pets as a vehicle to discuss grief with the kids of the church, and my brother is posing the hard questions.
Why hadn’t we felt ready for a dog? Our springer spaniel, Ellie had passed years prior. To be honest I think the real answer was that life had gotten busy, our house was full of kids (four of us!) and it just hadn’t happened. But this question struck my dad. And about a week later my parents brought home a golden retriever puppy to my younger brother and sister who were still living at home. Sailor puppy became a beloved member of the family.
I’ve thought about this a lot recently, as Chris and I have had our own brush with grief around dogs this year.
Skipper Joins Our Family
The day the first lockdown of the pandemic started, we were picking up our sweet golden retriever puppy from a breeder in Southern California. Skipper joined our family as the world shut down, and I think often about the blessing she was. In this uncertain scary time, we had this little bundle of love to care for and to care for us. In the months to come, we realized she had an intestinal issue, and started the journey of working with various specialists. I won’t sugar coat it, it sucked. Here we were with this gorgeous, loving, sweet perfect little puppy, and her body just wasn’t cooperating with her, and no amount of specialists could figure out what was wrong.
Throughout our year and a half with this little girl, there was a constant soundtrack in the background and often the foreground, that was navigating her increasing health issues. It was unfair. It is a hard thing to process. We worked with so many specialists, and were told that our care actually likely extended her life. That meant so much to us to hear. Our time together was the biggest blessing for all three of us, and I am so glad we could form a family with her.
Skipper passed in July, and I’ve been having a hard time sharing this news. I had been dreading having to re-explain everything, and answer peoples questions.
And yet, while we are devastated, we also find peace in knowing that she lived more life with us in that year and a half than a lot of dogs get in years. She hiked the rockies, road-tripped through Utah & Colorado twice, drove cross-country, went to beaches all over, played in the snow, went to our beach house with her cousin Lyra, met so many people, had countless dance parties and puppy parades, and had both me and Chris home all day everyday as we worked from home in pandemic. She was the sweetest, floofiest, love.
Loss and Love
I’m no stranger to grief. Having lost my mom when I was six years old, loss has been a familiar place for me. One of my friends commented on my Instagram post honoring Skipper, a comment that meant so much to me. He wrote “Oh Katherine, while you’re no stranger to grief and loss, it doesn’t make it any easier anytime it comes up. Sending you a shit ton of love, friend. ❤️” Yep, so well said.
I’ve found that taking my experience with grief and supporting others who are newer to meeting the emotion, has been profoundly meaningful for me. I’ve done this through volunteering with several non-profits including Comfort Zone Camp (a US-based national non-profit that runs three-day camp programs for kids ages 7-17 who have lost a parent or sibling), hosting a monthly table for The Dinner Party (an international non-profit creating dinner parties for people in their 20s/30s/40s who are experiencing grief), and Child Bereavement UK (a UK based non-profit providing support for children and parents grieving child loss). I feel drawn to holding space and supporting others who are experiencing loss, and think that work is so important.
And yet this still sucks. Losing your year and a half old dog sucks. It feels unfair, and reminds me of the frustration I feel for the kids I work with at Comfort Zone Camp who have lost parents or siblings at such young ages. It’s hard to grip.
However I am also met with a strong reminder of how resilient we are. It’s something that astounds me in the work I’ve done with others in grief – our capacity to love, and experience hope, and trust despite our grief.
Chris and I have been reflecting on timing. We feel that if Skipper was always going to have a short life, what a gift that we could spend it with her. The first year of the pandemic we didn’t see any of our family for a whole year. We had just moved to Southern California and didn’t yet have a social circle established there yet. We were a plane ride away from any family. Skipper was a needed source of joy and love in that first year of the pandemic, and we are so grateful for the gift she was. It doesn’t feel like a coincidence that we shared that year together. She gave us a sense of family during a scary year, and we were able to give her the most vibrant life for her short time here. The emotions around that feels big, but there’s absolutely a deep sense of gratitude and trust here.
Dogs and Coaching
Dogs often come up in my coaching work on the phone.
There are two common ways dogs happen into the coaching. The first is the dog wanders into the room when a client is on the phone with me, and happens into our coaching. Often I’ll use the dog as part of the topic. What’s this dog have to say about this? What happens to your energy around this topic with this dog nearby? The other is more abstract.
In coaching we’re often exploring different perspectives to things our clients are “stuck” on. Embodying different perspectives frees us to move beyond the fixed thinking of a limiting perspective we might be in toward something we want to move forward with. Often play is a window into this exploration – and embodying dogs is a fun way to do that.
When a client is having a hard time with something we’re coaching on, often their dog becomes an access point to emotion. There’s a pureness, a simplicity there. Our dogs are fully in the present moment and looking at them encourages us to be grounded in the now.
One of the magical things about a dog is they both unconditionally love you, and like you. While other family members might (and hopefully do) unconditionally love you, unconditional liking is different. No matter what you do, they greet you with a smile and cuddles and love. There is no judgement. They are so pure and want you to feel showered in affection.
A Fluffy Beacon of Hope
I’ve been thinking a lot about my dad’s “Time for Children” from all those years ago, and the grief around losing a pet. The question he posed, how do you know when it’s time to get a new pet? Really that question to me is asking, how do you know your capacity to extend love.
Now 6 months later, we feel ready to love on and welcome another little pup to our home. On the week of what would have been Skippers 2nd birthday, we found out from a breeder we’ve been talking to that she has the perfect little puppy for us. On Saturday we drove to North Carolina & picked her up, and now she’s curled up napping at my feet as I write this.
It feels so good to have a dog in our house again.
We were worried that having a new dog would feel disloyal to Skipper, and yet it really hasn’t. Carrying Rosie into the house, we knew she was meant to be a part of this family. And it feels really good. We love reminiscing about Skipper, and know that she would love Rosie to be a part of this home.
Soon I’ll share a post introducing you to Rosie. I can’t wait for you to meet her.
Photos of adventures with our beloved Skipper.
If you are grieving the loss of a pet, I am sending you so much love. Dogs are such a big part of our families, and it’s a real loss. Big hugs to you all, from our family to yours.
