hug your ‘therapy’ dog

Lately, in this time of quarantine, I find myself longing for our old dog, Colbie.

We adopted Colbie, an intelligent, affable Goldendoodle, as a tiny pup. My husband diligently trained him, and he became my daily running partner. Colbie rarely barked, potty-trained easily, and never chewed a thing we didn’t want him to. He was basically the best boy dog to ever have a girl’s name. (Named after the ‘Bubbly’ singer.)

Years went by and we had our first baby, then our second…then, probably to Colbie’s chagrin, yet another tiny human came into our home. At the time of that third baby’s arrival our aging dog was seeming a bit tired, despite his good nature. It had become increasingly harder for him to go on runs with me. There were more frequent trips to the vet. We thought it was age, or maybe the anxiety of another baby around. We had owned him for eight years at that point, but thought he had quite a few years left.

Then, when we said ‘yes’ to my husband taking a job in the Netherlands, some dear friends who had recently lost their own doodle offered generously to adopt Colbie. They had been expats themselves, knew that we wanted to travel a lot in Europe, and that I felt already very overwhelmed now with three small children. Also, they had recently mourned the loss of their own dog, and were hoping to adopt an older dog who was used to kids already. We weighed it out.The decision was heartbreaking and yet felt like the right one.

Unfortunately, not long after we moved, Colbie passed away. He had a previously undiagnosed cyst that ruptured and affected his bladder. It all happened quickly.

We mourned. In fact I bawled for many days after learning the news from our friends. We didn’t tell our kids for several months, what with all the changes we had put them through already. We waited until they acclimated a bit to school and our new life before sharing the sad news. Then we all cried together and I mourned Colbie yet again. A part of me (the unrealistic, romantic part) will always think he died of a broken heart.

So, as I mentioned, during this self-isolation, I find myself missing Colbie more than usual.

I read somewhere that right now dogs are viewed as more valuable than ever. Basically, being a pup owner is your perfect excuse to be outside of your house taking walks, multiple times a day.

I think it goes much deeper than that.

Dogs are therapy in a time when we need it most. I know what a comfort Colbie would be to me right now, in the midst of triggered depression and anxiety over uncertainty. I wish I could hug his huge, lean, sixty-five pound frame again, bury face in his curly fur, and stare into his kind brown eyes, which always seemed to express, “Don’t worry, everything will be okay.”

So, if you do have a dog right now, count yourselves lucky. Snuggle them more, give them extra treats and take them on lots of walks in the sunshine. Don’t underestimate their value when your spirits are low.

Let them be your ‘therapy’ dog, and treasure them a bit extra in return.