This piece was written in October 2022.
It’s been over a year since our family dog, Willow, passed away unexpectedly. She was ten years old. Like many families with pets, our children grew up with her. She was loving, gentle, good with people, and made the house feel like home. All clichés — and all true.
I took it very hard, and still do. Until writing this, I couldn’t talk about it. I didn’t want to. I love her.
We had Willow from a young age, and because of my work she was with me almost every day of her life. Aside from occasional travel or short holidays, she was always there — on the good days, the bad days, and the downright ugly ones. Even when I wasn’t my best self, it didn’t matter. She stayed.
The forty-eight hours leading up to her passing were some of the darkest I can remember. There are many things I wish I’d done differently. I was supposed to take care of her, and I feel I failed in that responsibility. People say there was nothing I could have done. Sometimes the mind refuses to accept that. Rightly or wrongly, I still struggle to.
I told the children they could not have done anything differently. That was true. My wife moved between anger and grief, back and forth, as we often do. As a parent, you make space for everyone else first. Your own feelings wait.
Time doesn’t heal in the way people suggest. Time passes, and you learn how to get through the days, weeks, and months without falling apart. You learn how to cope. I remember the joy we had as a family with her. She had so much love to give, and we gave it back.
Even now, I find it hard to think about her without getting upset — the happy moments, the difficult ones, everything in between. I miss her.
There are a few things she taught me.
- Unconditional love is a strength
- Being excited is contagious
- Rest matters
- Non-human companionship is priceless
Unconditional love is a strength
I understood this in theory long before I understood it in practice. Loving unconditionally doesn’t mean allowing yourself to be diminished. It means wanting the best for someone, even when that’s uncomfortable. It builds trust. It requires honesty. It takes courage.
Willow always wanted the best for us. Always. She supported us on our worst days and celebrated us on the ordinary ones. Humans often mistake unconditional love for naivety. It isn’t. It’s strength — the strength to care, to challenge, to stay, or sometimes to walk away when that’s what’s needed.
Being excited is contagious
Willow was always happy to see us. Every day. We forget how powerful that is. It costs nothing to greet someone with warmth. A bad day doesn’t need to cancel kindness. Simply being there was enough for her — and it was enough for us.
Rest matters
Between Willow and our cat, I learned what it means to stop. To truly rest. No agenda. No productivity. Just being. When I was invited into that stillness, it felt like a gift. To sit or lie there without expectation. To be at ease in your own company.
Non-human companionship is priceless
Friends are vital. They support us, challenge us, and bring light. But living with a non-human companion teaches something different. You learn to communicate without words. You rely on what’s unspoken. You learn to lead with care.
Your non-human companion depends on you. You are their reference point. Their safety. Their constant. That responsibility is total — and profoundly humanising.