PREFACE

Ask anyone who has ever loved a dog, and they’ll tell you: it’s never just a dog. To love a dog is to sign up for muddy paw prints, fur on the couch, chewed shoes, and nose smudges on windows. But it is also to sign up for unconditional love so steady that even on your darkest days, you are never alone. Dogs are stitched into our lives in ways words can hardly contain. They are the reason we smile at ordinary things, the reason we go outside on cold mornings, the reason our voices rise into silly octaves when we ask, who’s the best dog? Because to love a dog is to be changed forever.

Everyone’s first dog is unforgettable. They are the ones who teach us how to listen with more than our ears, how to see the world with fresh eyes, and how to love without reservation. My first dog, Hero, arrived when I was young and unprepared for how much a dog could change the course of a life. He was supposed to be a guard dog, or so my housemate wanted. But the smallest puppy of the litter had other plans. He looked me directly in the eyes that fateful day, and I just knew: Hero had picked me. So, the journey began, and undoubtedly, we grew up together. On long walks, I poured out my worries, and Hero, I’m sure, listened. He was there during every heartbreak, he stayed by my side when the world felt dark, he lay across my feet as I worked or watched television. We went on road trips, spent hours at the beach, and walking in the forest. And this is how I will always picture him, with me wherever I go. Hero taught me that home is not always a place, it can be a heartbeat beside your own.

But this isn’t just about Hero. Because if you’re holding this book, you probably have a Hero of your own. Maybe they’re sprawled at your feet right now or curled up beside you. Maybe they’re in the kitchen searching for crumbs, or somewhere down the hall parading your sock, or maybe they live only in memory. Maybe they were your childhood shadow, or maybe they’re the dog who just recently tumbled into your life, messy and joyful and determined to stay. That’s the thing about dogs: whether they’re big or small, scrappy or polished, messy or trained, loud or quiet, they have a way of finding us when we need them most. Sometimes we think it’s us who chose them, but often, they’re the ones that choose us.

Over the years, more dogs have chosen me. Dakota, who makes joy feel tangible, tucked into the wag of her tail or the glint her eyes when she finds her favorite toy. She reminds me that laughter lives in the smallest, silliest of moments. Marlu, a rescue from the remote parts of the Northern Territory, came to us wary of the world. With patience and kindness, she bloomed, her confidence rising slowly like the sun. She reminds me healing takes time, but it is always possible. And then there is Benjamin, Benny, Ben Ben—the sweetest dog I have even known. There isn’t a single bad day I don’t feel better after looking at his face. Each of them, in their own way, remind me that dogs can mend the places grief once hollowed out.

But these aren’t just my stories. If you’ve ever been loved by a dog, then you know the feeling of watching them run free in their favorite place, of jumping and running along sand, in the water, through the trees. The excitement of a game of fetch, or a really big stick, or watching the clouds go by. You’ve felt the comfort of a head pressed against your lap, mornings brightened by wagging tails, tears softened by your truest friend. Dogs carry us through heartache, they are there through milestones, and wait faithfully by the door, as if to say, I’m so glad you’re home. They live fewer years than we wish, but in that time, they give us more than some people do in a whole lifetime.

Truthfully, the most important things I’ve learned from my dogs are actually rather simple. They have taught me to live in every moment and follow my heart (and my nose) to the things that bring me happiness. They’ve made me appreciate small joys: an early coffee in the sun, the first cool breeze of fall, a Sunday nap stretched out, a sunset in summer, on the beach, looking at the horizon and how much beauty still lives here in this world. Now, as I watch them grow older, I try not to think about life without them. Instead, I think about the life I have with them now, how lucky it makes me to be loved by a dog.

I dedicate this book not only to our dogs, Hero, Dakota, Marlu and Benjamin, but also to all of yours. May these words remind you of every pawprint on your floor, every excited greeting, every missing sock, and every moment you’ve shared with your dog, that has made life so much better. Because let’s be honest, all dogs, in their own way, are good.

Every single one.