Everything I’ve Learned About Myself, I Learned from My Dog

I didn’t expect to meet a mirror with paws.

I thought I was done with dogs.

After putting down three, after holding Kingsley, the healthiest dog I’d ever known, and hearing that cancer was stealing him away at eleven years old, I swore to myself I couldn’t do it again. Not the heartbreak. Not the decision-making. Not the slow decline. Not the guilt that always comes, no matter how much you do.

Kingsley was my shadow. My difficult, reactive, loyal, complicated boy. And when I lost him, it felt like I lost a piece of myself I couldn’t get back. I told myself maybe now was the time to travel. To see the world. I’d been caring for dogs since I was seventeen. Maybe now was the chapter where I was supposed to be completely free.

But grief has a funny way of leaving echoes.

Every day I came home to silence. No bark. No paws. No presence. And that silence was loud. It echoed in a way I couldn’t quiet. One day my dad made a comment: “You’re really single-single now.” It hit. I was completely untethered. Alone in a way that felt deeper than I was ready to admit.

I wasn’t ready to adopt. I wasn’t even looking, not seriously. But then a picture came up, a dog named Marvel, and something in me sparked. He reminded me of Kingsley. I reached out, but Marvel already had an application. Still, the rescue group told me they had another dog. A black dog named Nesquik who had been with them for four months, the longest foster they’d had.

Nobody wanted him. Too black. Too invisible.

And I couldn’t believe that. A dog being overlooked because of the color of his coat? That didn’t sit right with me. So, I drove the hour to meet him. They told me if I liked him, I could take him home that day.

The moment I saw him, I knew.

That’s my dog.

"Gotcha Day" pic

He didn’t feel like a replacement for Kingsley. He felt like a continuation. A soft place to land after the hardest goodbye. A gentle companion instead of a storm. He was calm. Present. Attuned. And for a dog who’d been found playing in a puddle as a stray puppy, he had more joy and light in him than most people I know.

I renamed him Onyx. Strong, grounding, and beautiful in his blackness.

In these eight months, Onyx has changed everything.

He’s made me commit to my own wellbeing.

He’s made me move. Stretch. Breathe.

He eats better than most humans, and that’s inspired me to pay attention to what I feed myself too.

He’s lean and fast and needs a version of me that keeps up.

And for the first time in a long time, I want to be someone he can keep up with.

He reminds me that I’m not broken. That there’s still love I haven’t met yet. That joy, real, tail-wagging, eyes-soft joy is still available in this life. He’s proof that endings don’t mean forever. That sometimes the next chapter shows up already written, waiting to be read.

And yeah, maybe he’s just a dog.

But he’s also my mirror.

My reset button.

My witness.

My companion in this strange, shifting world.

And if I’m lucky, if the universe is kind, I’ll get many more years of being reflected in those eyes.

recent adventure with Onyx 🙌🖤

A Thank You to Onyx

You didn’t come into my life by accident.

You came right on time, in the aftermath of loss, in the heaviness of silence, in the kind of loneliness that only a dog-shaped shadow can fill.

I don’t know how to thank you properly for that.

For the mornings you pulled me out of bed just by needing me.

For the nights you stayed close without asking for anything.

For reminding me that companionship doesn’t need fixing, it just needs presence.

For being the dog who could be with me, without demanding anything other than space and love.

I want you to know I see you.

I honor everything you’ve brought into my world.

And I will spend every year we get together making sure you feel as chosen as you’ve made me feel.

I love you. More than I thought I could again.

xoxoxo,

Outtamydamnmind

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Your Turn: Who Was That for You?

Was there a dog that cracked something open in you?

A pet who gave you purpose in a time you didn’t even realize you were drifting.

An animal who showed up, not just to keep you company, but to bring you home to yourself.

Tell me about them in the comments. I want to hear it.

This is what Life-quakes and Rebirth is all about, the before and after’s that change us. The grief, the stillness, the surprise, and the rebirth.

If this resonated with you, consider becoming a paid subscriber. You’ll get access to more writing like this inside The Inner Room, a quieter, deeper space I’ve created for the most intimate reflections and shared stories.

And if you’d like to support me and Onyx as we continue to create memories and stories on the road, as we quite literally travel through the aftermath and into new life, you can pledge to buy me a trip outtamydamnmind. Every contribution helps me keep doing what I love while building a life that makes room for healing, joy, and dog-hair-covered adventure.

From both of us, thank you for reading.

This one’s for the dogs who saved us. 🖤