Because of Them

For more than five decades, my life has been woven together with feathered and furry loved ones. I’ve never known a single chapter of my life without them, until now.

I grew up in the middle of the woods in Cecilia, Kentucky, surrounded by pets and critters galore, with the freedom to run wild.

And wild I ran.

There were chickens and ducks underfoot, box turtles in the leaves, and dogs on the porch and in every adventure. I could make a pet out of just about any creature that crossed my path, but dogs came to hold my heart in a way nothing else ever quite could.

There was something extraordinary about growing up alongside them. They were my first loves, and they showed up every single day. A summer afternoon with them could become a memory I’d carry for fifty years. It isn’t that our pets exist to teach us something. It’s that, in loving them, we learn what it means to show up for another life simply because that life matters.

Childhood taught me the other half of loving them, too. We buried our pets together in a quiet patch of woods and planted flowers over each one, and by the time I was thirteen, there were so many flowers. That year, I was given a writing assignment at school, and I knew right away what my story would be. I wanted their stories told. So I wrote them down in my best cursive, stitched the pages together with dental floss so they’d hold, and covered the book in flowers. I called it Our Family Pets. It went on to win the countywide writing contest, and I had no idea I’d just named the work of my life.

I’ve had two great loves in my life: dogs and food.

In my twenties, I left my little Kentucky hometown for Atlanta, carrying a dream that had been simmering since the days of my Easy-Bake Oven. Culinary school led me into some of the city’s finest restaurants and, eventually, to a restaurant of my own. That little girl’s dream came true.

But somewhere along the way, I discovered it was never just about the food. It was about the table: the conversations that lingered long after the plates were cleared, and the feeling of having a place and being cared for in it. Food was the vessel. What mattered most was the love that gathered around it, and I didn’t yet know how far that lesson would follow me.

Years later, another dream took shape around the love that had always been there. I built a dog boarding and daycare business and owned it for twelve years. It was the table all over again, a warm, safe place for the dogs I’d loved since I was a little girl and for the families who trusted me with them. Four of my own dogs grew up on that floor, alongside every dog who came through our doors. Those years were full of wagging tails, familiar faces, and the unrepeatable character of every dog who became part of my days.

And through it all, there were my boys. Petie was my gentle Whippet, white with a tan patch over one eye, and the first dog who ever slept inside my house. Peanut was my little Italian Greyhound, a surprise gift and Petie’s first little brother. Iggy Pop was blue and white and small enough to fit in my palm the day he came home. Louie was a frightened little foster who took one look at me and stayed for sixteen years. And that same summer came Boo, my blue-eyed husky mix, a cream-colored puppy I pulled out of traffic.

They were five irreplaceable souls, each with his own way of making me laugh, and together they shared thirty years with me, June to June. They were beside me through the laughter and the heartache and the chapters that asked more of me than I knew I had to give. They were never simply along for the ride. They’re woven into who I was, and who I’m still becoming. Maybe you’ve known a love like that, too.

One by one, I said goodbye. The last three left me within nineteen months, and when Louie, my last one home, was gone, the house got so quiet I could hear the refrigerator think.

For the first time in my life, there’s no little heartbeat beside me. But in this quiet, I’ve come to understand what love was showing me all along. Love doesn’t end when life changes. It doesn’t ask us to forget the ones who helped make us who we are. It changes form and finds new places to live. Love transforms, and mine found its way back to that little book.

I always called my boys my lovebugs, and I promised them I’d tell their stories. Our Family Pets is how I keep that promise. It’s where I share stories, memories, and small beautiful truths about the pets who make a home. It’s for the everyday joys, the caregiving seasons, and the grief that can be so hard to explain to anyone who has never known this kind of love. For so many of us, the love we share with our pets is among the deepest we’ll ever know, and here it’s understood for exactly what it is: meaningful, life-shaping, and worthy of being remembered.

The little girl who stitched that book together couldn’t have known where it would lead. She knew only that she loved them and that their stories mattered. All these years later, they still do, and so do yours. Because of them, I know love can change the shape of a life, and I’m still learning what they spent thirty years showing me. They quietly teach us how to love.