I have a nearly four-year-old Goldendoodle named Leo. He is technically a mini-Goldendoodle, but he’s 40 pounds so we call him “Schmedium”. I think the breeder advertised him as a mini to increase the price. I don’t mind, I didn’t want a toy poodle and I like him the way he is.
My girlfriend (now wife), Kim, and I had recently moved in together. We both knew we wanted a dog at some point, and figured we’d get engaged, get a house, get married, get a dog, and then have a baby - probably in that order. One Saturday in August our friends reached out and asked for help puppy-sitting. They had just gotten a Goldendoodle and named him Jeff. He was so frickin cute.
So, we ran around with Jeff in the backyard, we took him to the lake, and we lolled around with him at home until he passed out on our laps. We were so sad when our friends came back to take him home. So sad, in fact, that we got the information for the breeder they got Jeff from.
Within minutes of Jeff leaving, Kim decided on the dog we were going to get. “Him. He’s perfect”.
You know those times when you’re deciding to make a big life change, but moments before it wasn’t even something in your purview (also known as an “impulse decision)?That’s how this felt. I reasoned with Kim that it might just not be the right time. We have roommates, we just moved in together, and we have social lives, it might just not be right.
However. But. When Kim decides she wants something, then that thing already belongs to her.
Three days later and I’m on the phone with the breeder while we’re at a Gopher football game, and I am reading off my bank account number out in public to put a deposit down on this puppy that we’ve never met.
I listen to songs I really like on repeat. I’m sure there’s a psychological reason for that, and maybe one day I will look into that. Earlier in the week we watched “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”, and the end credits song is “Stay Alive” by Jose Gonzales. I decided that song was going to be on repeat as we drove an hour and a half north to pick up our new puppy.
While Kim slept in my passenger seat, I drove and listened to this song 40 or so times, dreaming about what our life was going to be like with this new little creature. When we first met him, he was plopped in my arms and we just stared at each other. Then we looked at Kim who was still sitting in the passenger seat, wide-eyed and smiling at her new baby dog. Jose Gonzales’ song is about transformation - moving from one part of life to another. Moving from our limitations to a new phase of life with possibilities. I like that. This was a life transformation, moving from what was into what would be.
There's a rhythm and rush these days
Where the lights don't move and the colors don't fade
Leaves you empty with nothing but dreams
In a world gone shallow
In a world gone lean
I plopped our nameless puppy on Kim’s lap (his name was Rusty, actually. The breeders named him Rusty, and when we looked at their website again the next year, there was another “Rusty”, so they just recycle), and we were off. Once we were home, it felt like he was playing “the floor is lava” in our living room. I don’t think he’d ever been on hardwood floors, because he was crying and whining and whimpering like the slippery floor was the scariest thing he’d ever encountered, and maybe it was. That day began the love affair between us and our first puppy.
Sometimes there's things a man cannot know
The gears won't turn and the leaves won't grow
There's no place to run and no gasoline
Engine won't turn and the train won't leave
Engines won't turn and the train won't leave
It took us three days to decide on a name for him. We market-tested a few names like Moose, Odie, and others, but they didn’t quite fit. One lady at Chuck and Dons “hmphed” at us when we referred to him as “Moose”. We weren’t offended, she was right, he wasn’t a “Moose”. Back to the drawing board.
Kim had bought a lion stuffy for him before we brought him home. I forgot who said it first, but one of us offered up “Leo?”, and we both just kind of knew. I don’t know if there was a moment where we called him by his name and he looked at us as if to say “yep, that’s my name”, but it fit and it stuck. We had our little Leo, a feisty, busy, tiny ham of a dog.
I will stay with you tonight
Hold you close 'til the morning light
In the morning watch a new day rise
We'll do whatever just to stay alive
We'll do whatever just to stay alive
He was a pre-pandemic dog, but he benefitted greatly from Kim and me, along with our three roommates all being stuck at home for months. He was never without company. He always had someone to scratch his belly, give him a snack (or a lot of snacks), or take him on a walk. We celebrated his first birthday with balloons, a cake, a hat, and noisemakers.
From the beginning, we knew Leo was a special dog to us. He quickly became part of our family and has been through every big life thing in the last four years. He came along when Kim and I got engaged. Kim made sure he could come to surprise me on our wedding day. He greeted our newborn son, Reed, on the day we brought him home from the hospital.
He’s been there for all of the small things, too. Trips to Dairy Queen for ice cream and pup cups, walks by the creek every day at lunchtime, always there, always ready to offer what he offers best - love, affection, and he’s quick to let us know that we are his favorite people on the whole planet. When we leave the house without Leo, I find myself asking Kim, “What do you think Leo is doing?”
She always answers, “Laying, snoozing, resting. Waiting for us to come back.”
I’m just introducing Leo here. He’s still alive, thankfully. Maybe the leadup to this felt like he wasn’t, but I’m just feeling grateful to have him here. He will appear in this writing space a lot, so I figured there needed to be a primer for him.
Most dog people will understand the love we have for our little companions. I often refer to Leo as a “ruin your life dog”, because one day he’s going to leave us and it will be one of the hardest days ever. We’re so lucky to have a dog we love so much that we are already dreading that day.
A few years ago on a trip to Phoenix, we were especially missing Leo. We were only gone for a few days, but we were still asking each other, “What do you think Leo is doing?”
Kim and I lolled around in the pool and took turns reading the book “The Art of Racing in the Rain”, and watching the film rendition starring Milo Ventigmilia and Amanda Seyfried. If you have a dog, I recommend you consume both the book and the movie. And at the same time, I recommend you don’t, because it will make you heave cry.
SPOILERS AHEAD.
The book is narrated from the point of view of Enzo, a golden lab who finds himself the top companion of a racecar driver. The book takes us through their lives together and the trials and tribulations of Denny, his dad (dog owner).
At the end of the book, Enzo passes away. Years later, Denny is racing cars and teaching racing in Italy. Denny’s daughter brings a man and his young son to meet Denny after the race, and he tells him in Italian that Denny is this boy’s favorite driver. Denny asks this blond-haired, brown-eyed boy what his name is, and he answers, “Enzo”.
Queue me finding a quiet place away from Kim to cry. Since reading the book, I tell Kim at least once or twice a month that this is Leo’s last stop before becoming a human, and that it will be fun when he comes and finds us in his next life, his human life. We swear he knows English. He’s so smart, and it’s a problem for us sometimes, how smart he is. He’s a selective listener, and really he’s our first-born.
He will ruin my life one day, and I’m so lucky to love a little animal enough to know that one day it will hurt so badly to lose him.
But, this highlights something I have been thinking about a lot lately. Having a child is scary for so many reasons. You have to keep this little thing alive! But really what hits me is that the more people you love in your life (and pets), the more you increase your capacity to feel pain at some point. More loving relationships eventually mean more heartbreaking goodbyes. I’m not putting the cart before the horse and expecting awful things to happen. I also am not suggesting that we should not love just because we know there will be a goodbye of some sort at the end. I just know that we’re human and our time here is special and fleeting. It makes me feel grateful, which is something I need to feel more often. I can get so lost in all the things I need to do and the things I want to accomplish. Leo has taught me that what I need is really right in front of me. And he just wants some pats, some scratches, and to be told he’s good boy. Maybe have a snack thrown in there, too.
One day Leo will ruin my life. By entering my life, he started a ticking clock that will expire one day. He is such a huge part of one section of my life, and it feels too small. It’s sometimes helpful for me to remember that we are his whole life.
Before our son was born, Leo and I went outside to have a talk. As a big brother myself, I wanted to make sure Leo knew how important his job was going to be when we brought the new baby home. He also needed to know how important he was then, and would remain to Kim and I. I told him that his most important job is to protect his new baby for all the days of his life, and I am pretty sure he agreed to be up to the task.
A lot has changed since our baby boy, Reed, came home. Leo has had to adjust, and some days have been better than others for all of us. Leo had to learn to be second-fiddle, and he’s come to understand that he gets his needs met after the baby does. He’s so gentle with his little brother, he (mostly) stays quiet when the baby is sleeping, and I don’t think we could ask for a sweeter dog. We knew these traits about him before, but helping him interact with a new baby human has been incredible to watch. He greets his baby every day with tongue-kisses, straight in the baby’s mouth. He plays on the mat with the baby, and almost always makes sure he doesn’t step on the baby. He even lets Reed pet him, gently, every once in a while. We know that one day they will be best buds - specifically when Reed can run and throw Leo his ball. Or, when Reed can actively share his meals with Leo.
We make sure to tell Leo how much he means to us each day. And, Leo listens, because he knows English. And, because I believe he’s soaking all of this life in to get ready for his human-go-around next. Even though he’s going to ruin my life one day, it’s a small price to pay to get to enjoy that little stretch of time when our two lives collided.
Every once in a while, “Stay Alive” by Jose Gonzales will come across my Spotify. And when it does, I smile and think back to that humid, cloudy drive up north to meet my “ruin-your-life” puppy.
There's a rhythm and rush these days
Where the lights don't move and the colors don't fade
Leaves you empty with nothing but dreams
In a world gone shallow
In a world gone lean
But there is a truth and it's on our side
Dawn is coming open your eyes
Look into the sun as a new days rise