Life is Better with a Dog

If you're following us on socials, you might know that we've had two major dog "life events" in the last few weeks. We lost our beloved Jax in late May and a few weeks later ended up adopting a dog, rather unexpectedly.

We've had a dog since November 2005 (and before that time, I always had a dog in my childhood home.) Other than college and about a year following, I have had a canine sidekick (or two). I didn't realize just how much having a dog made me felt whole and normal. It's not that I took my dogs for granted, it's just that they always were there. Nothing prepares you to lose a dog, and those who have been through it know the pain is unlike anything else.

When we lost Lola in 2019, Jax became our sole dog. (Honestly - we think he loved being in the attention spotlight. He was always my shadow and liked being my ONLY shadow.) Jax had been there for major moments in our life - he was at our wedding, welcomed home our daughter, lived through the weirdness of the pandemic - so many moments. He was in our running program at PAWS, and ran literally thousands of miles by my side as a younger dog. He loved to camp, hike, follow me around the house, and eat things he should not.

The last year of Jax's life was good. For a dog pushing 15 years, to say it was great would be a stretch, but we tried to keep him as comfortable as possible using medications, injections and lifestyle changes to help deal with his arthritis. Every pet owner who has had to make a quality of life decision for end of life care knows how horrible those last few months can be. The constant asking of, "Is he happy?" and "Are we keeping on top of his pain?" and "When was the last time I remember him wagging his tail?"

Jax lived for Summer trips to Beaver Island, Michigan. (So do we.)

It's the realization that your heart is going to be ripped out, but also knowing that it's the ultimate act of love to free an elderly or sick dog from ongoing pain. And that WE control the timing. We enter into these contracts to become best friends with dogs, knowing we outlive them. And we do it anyway because life is simply better with a dog.

Saying goodbye to Jax was every bit as hard as we imagined it would be. We had Lap of Love, an in-home veterinary hospice and end-of-life service, come over to the house to usher him over. Our nine-year-old daughter was adamant for months that she wanted to be there. She said defiantly (when I tried to talk her out of it), "Mom, he has been there for me for my whole life. I need to be there for him when he dies." (There are some moments of a parent that you feel so damn proud - this was one of them.) We consulted her teacher and the hospice vets at Lap of Love to confirm that yes, she was emotionally ready to handle this and not only would it help us all process what happened, it would be good for Jax.

Jax ate EVERYTHING and anything he wanted that last morning. Bacon, eggs, candy and even my earplugs. (I sleep with ear plugs in an he was notorious for eating them when I wasn't looking. Ear wax snack! So that morning, I let him eat those earplugs. I swear he gave me a look of, "Are you serious Mom?") And about 30 seconds before he slipped under, our daughter gave him a Reeces Peanut Butter cup. We held him and we cried as he fell asleep, and it was awful and peaceful and beautiful and horrendous. But he was no longer in a pain. (The hospice vet from Lap of Love was incredible. She was kind, patient and wonderful with our daughter. She explained things before they happened in a firm but empathetic way that our daughter could understand.)

The days following a loss always feel so surreal. Not only does your hurt hurt, but the changes to daily routine and the rhythm of life are so disorientating. That first morning, my daughter and I both woke up early and didn't know what to do with ourselves. Our normal rhythm was to take Jax out for his morning walk, and while those walks got shorter and shorter over the last few months, staying in the house felt wrong. So we went for a walk, and it felt VERY weird.

One of our wonderful clients sent over flowers, and when we were chatting about it all, I told her that just "going for a walk" without a dog felt awkward. Usually when we're walking we have a destination in mind (walking to the grocery store or library) OR we had Jax (or another dog) by our side. To simply go for a walk because we were antsy was not something we'd really ever had to do. (And I'm a runner so I run 3-4 times per week, but an aimless walk? We're also avid hikers, so walking in the woods is something that we do regularly.) We know the benefits of movement, both mentally and physically, but walks are better with dogs. Full stop.

Everything felt weird. The physical and spacial changes in our home after each loss are felt deeply, even when we had a dog at home. When we lost Max, the void of his presence was felt even though we had Lola, and when we lost Lola the void of her presence was felt even though we had Jax. It was terribly tangible when the house was empty. I actually got a bit anxious the first time I as truly alone in the house, not out of a sense of being unsafe, but it just felt wrong. The quiet was eerie and unfamiliar.

He was at the ER vet for 48 hours on fluids and oxygen.

When Street Tails Animal Rescue started posting a few weeks later about a sick puppy (Stretch Armstrong) that had to be hospitalized and put on oxygen due to viral induced pneumonia, we figured someone would step up to foster. Sure he was recovering, but he was as cute as a button. But the next day another post followed sharing that they didn't get a single foster application and Stretch couldn't go back to the shelter. (He was contagious and his immune system was compromised.) They were desperate for a dog-free household so he could heal and rest. And I thought to myself, "My home is dog-free and my heart is big enough to care for another dog." We had agreed we likely wouldn't adopt again until August, but we could foster him for a few weeks until he was feeling better and ready for adoption.

Everyone can guess how this story ends. We fell in love with Stretch. We have renamed him Tui, after a very common bird in New Zealand, where my husband (and co-founder of The Monster Minders is from.) Less than 48 hours later we contacted STAR to let them know about our intentions to adopt him. We work with a lot of dogs, and we could just tell that he was a keeper. You do not pass on a dog like this. We are in the thick of potty training, we can't let him out of our sight for a second, and our house is littered with chew toys. It's perfect.

While we have no idea what mix he is (folks keep calling him Scooby Doo) we think he's this mix:

Tui is a 100% perfect Philly mix.

25% puppy dog eyes and velvet ears

 25% chew on everything in sight

 25% loves to nap on top of us

 25% good boy

Everyone has different timelines for grieving and we've been in this space long enough to know that there is no right answer. We've had clients that have waited days, weeks, months and even years before they were ready to bring home a new dog. And all of them were right. The way I see it, all of our dogs were rescues. All of them knew what it was like to be in a shelter, without a family, consistency and routine. And I'd like to think all of them would approve of us snagging another dog that needed us. Tui is not Jax, just as much as Jax was not Max.

Someone joked he's our "replacement" but in a city where healthy dogs are at risk of euthanasia due to shelter overcrowding, we're more than happy to open our home. Life is simply better with a dog. If we can free up kennel space for another dog, we'll do it. Because our hearts are big enough to fall in love all over again. (And we have fallen hard.)

As of writing in June 2025 - Tui's two sisters (Polly Pocket and Betty Spaghetti) are still waiting for their forever homes. They are every bit as cute as him and Street Tails is actively accepting adoption applications for them. (Photo of the three of them below.) Get in touch: info@streettails.org

This much cuteness should be illegal. Tui's sisters are currently for adoption at Street Tails.