I have lived with dogs most of my life. We always had at least one dog in my mother’s house throughout my childhood. My college years were the only period when I didn’t have a canine companion. As soon as I returned home after college and established my lifestyle, I got a dog. Then right away got another dog to keep the first company.

That was the routine for the most part. When one dog would pass, I would get another. Not as a replacement, but in their passing, I realized I had space for another dog to find themselves in a safe, happy home, cared for and loved.

I was also very aware that in trying to provide them a home, I was fulfilling my own desires for a connection that came with no strings attached. Dogs will enter an emotional space with their human and just exist with no demands or pretenses. I freely admit that humans often confuse me. Dogs, never.

All my dogs, past and current, have their own space in my heart that belongs to just them. They have all taught me something about life, and myself. Some lessons are obvious, some more subtle. But they were all something I needed to learn to move forward.

There are two who had major impacts on me and my life. Malaki was a pound puppy who was supposed to be much bigger than the 40 lbs who grew to. Hence the name, Malaki. It means “big” in Tagalog. But what he didn’t have in stature, he made up for in how large his place in my life was. While he lived me with, I went through the darkest period of my life. A much darker place than I ever experienced before then or since.

I remember so clearly sitting on the couch and knowing I had given up. I was done. All I needed to decide was how the end would come. As I sat there thinking, Malaki just kept pushing his head under my hand as it laid on the couch next to me. It was something he had done frequently, but his insistence was much more intense. Very intense. So much so that he managed to pull my focus away from my own thoughts and feelings. It wasn’t a miraculous aha moment. But I realized as I looked at him, that if I had followed through with my plan, he would be left alone, with no one to take care of him. He probably would have ended up at a shelter or the Dog Pound. After everything we had been through, he deserved better. He was my heart dog. We shared another 8 years of togetherness. But sometimes memories of him are still painful.

Two years before he died, I was gifted another dog. A bluenose gray furred pitbull. I wanted to name him Pacquiao, but since he wasn’t a boxer, a family member suggested Tupac. In learning about the famous rapper, I found the name fit. And that way he could keep his nickname, Pac. A very silly puppy who seemingly grew up overnight after his brother passed. I had never seen a dog cry until then. There is no way to measure the effect he had on me. Because of the reputation of pitbulls, we faced some animosity whenever we went out. But his gentle soul never gave anyone reason to direct that at him specifically. But it did raise some of the most protective feelings I have ever experienced.

I also had that sense of him protecting me. It was as if he mirrored my feelings exactly. I saw many little signs that he and I were in the same place emotionally. I had never experienced such an organic, authentic connection. No words were ever needed. I never had to explain myself to him or visa-versa. The most silent and exquisite relationship. He became my soul dog. Memories of him are comforting and still filled with joy. I miss his physical presence, but I know he is still with me every moment of everyday.

I am a different person because of my relationships to my canine companions. My life is better because of them.