A home without a dog is like…
Day without night
Bells without whistles
Tom without Jerry
Salt without pepper
A bride without a groom
Abbott without Costello
Scotch without soda
Pork without beans
Thunder without lightning
A joke without a punchline
Pie ala mode without ice cream
Government without taxes
Rimsky without Korsakov (okay, I’m stretching it a bit!)
In other words, in a home without a dog, something is missing.
Can you add any examples to this list?

Never judge a book by its cover. In the literal sense of that phrase, I refer you to the cover of Lance: A Spirit Unbroken, which features a very nice photo of a gentle-looking Lance. With Lance, appearances could be deceiving. You never were sure what kind of mood he was in. I’d like to think that the gentle expression on Lance’s face in the cover photo is the “real” Lance, the dog that would have been but could never be only because he grew up in the wrong hands. In this essay, I’m using the phrase “Never judge a book by its cover” in the figurative sense.

Not too long ago, I was signing books at the Bikers for Boobs breast cancer charity event in Northhampton, PA. The word “biker” can conjure up visions of…well, you know. So, I’m sitting at my table and off in the not-too-far distance was standing a hulk of a man all of—I’m guessing—some 250 pounds of weight carried on a frame that reached well over six feet in height. He had his back to me, but I could see that his bare arms were tattooed to the max. On both elbows were patterns of a spider’s web. On the back of his shaved head, I could make out what appeared to be the end of a dagger or sword.

The biker kept moving his arms as if he was adjusting his grip on something. I guess I’ve been conditioned by all the recent gun violence because the thought flashed across my mind: “This guy has loaded up and is ready to go berserk!” I wondered if someone else packing heat would put him out of his misery before he put me out of mine.

Then, the man turned around and gently put two chocolate lab (I’m guessing the breed) puppies on the grass. They were very young and mostly content to lie in the ground snuggled up against each other while occasionally sniffing their surroundings. The biker was smiling and talking to them like a proud papa. Bikers and non-bikers alike approached to pet the puppies and chat with their beaming owner.

I took away two lessons that day:
1-Never judge a book by its cover—or a person by his or her fashion statement.
2-In a world suffering from so much disunity, dogs can be such great unifiers.
​walterstoffelauthor.com

“The good die young.”  
Whoever coined that phrase must have been a dog lover.
What is a dog lover’s burden? Walking your dog? Feeding your dog? Bathing your dog? Providing medical care for your dog?  To be sure, all those activities require work (and sometimes money) but for a dog lover they are labors of love. Every once in a while you might chuckle to yourself thinking about the lengths you go to in an effort to spoil your dog but you’d never seriously think of treating them otherwise. After all, a spoiled dog tends to be more grateful–and predictable—than a spoiled human.

The real dog lover’s burden? That day your dog leaves this world. Though not exactly the same as losing a loved human, in its own distinctive way it hurts just as much. Even a semi-feral dog like Lance, the border collie I rescued, generated that dog lover/dog bond, albeit a bit warped version due to Lance’s biting tendencies.

For years Lance badgered me to take mammoth hikes multiple times each and every day (I looked forward to my workdays as a vacation!). Lance retained that youthful exuberance until late into his 16th year  Then, he went downhill quickly Once he turned seventeen he was no longer up to such treks. That’s when I started wishing that just once he could herd me into one last humongous hike. As he grew ever more feeble, my wife and I had to assist him to his feet, risking Lance’s attack. Only once did he give me a half-hearted snarl.

Finally came the day he was euthanized on our kitchen floor. True to character, he fought to the end. The grim process over, I wrapped him up in a blanket and began carrying him out to the grave I had dug days before. On the way there, I silently wished he would come back to life, even if that meant he’d snap at me for holding him.

​Whatever the circumstances of a dog’s departure, that loss is by far the toughest burden a dog lover will ever carry. Can you relate?

The death of a dog can be devastating for families, but new evidence from Italy suggests surviving dogs can also be profoundly affected by the loss, resulting in an assortment of behavioral changes that scientists say are consistent with grieving.
That dogs are capable of grieving may seem obvious to many dog owners, particularly those who have witnessed this very thing—myself included. Indeed, anecdotal accounts of dogs mourning the loss of a companion are common, but knowing the true emotional state of dogs is not easy and we often run the risk of anthropomorphizing our pets.
The new research, published in Scientific Reports and authored by an international group of scientists, tests our instincts on this matter, finding that dogs do indeed exhibit behaviors consistent with mourning. But as the researchers themselves admit, whether this is actual grieving remains an open question.
That said, the paper, co-authored by psychologist Stefania Uccheddu from the University of Padua, suggests we need to be sensitive to the needs of mourning dogs, and that we devise and employ effective strategies to comfort our canines as they adjust to the newly created void in their lives.

For the study, researchers from the University of Milan and several other institutions surveyed 426 dog owners in Italy, asking them to document changes in their dogs following the death of another dog in the same household. A whopping 86% of respondents reported negative changes in their surviving dog, an array of altered behaviors that—at least superficially—resemble signs of grief. The result is not a complete surprise as many animals exhibit mourning-like behaviors, including chimps, elephants, birds, and killer whales.

All respondents had a dog that passed away while they owned at least one other dog, and 66% lost their dog at least one year prior to filling out the survey. The researchers asked the owners to document changes in their surviving dog’s behavior after the death, and to also describe their prior relationship with the dogs and how they themselves dealt with the death of their pet. Of the dogs studied, 93% lived together with another dog for more than one year, while nearly 70% of owners described the relationship with their dogs as being friendly (which, at least to me, seems low—but that’s probably another story worth pursuing).
“Dog owners reported several statistically significant changes in the surviving dog after the death of the companion dog,” the scientists write. Approximately one-third of owners said these changes lasted for between two to six months, while one-quarter said it lasted for longer than half a year. In terms of the altered behaviors, 67% of dogs became more attention-seeking, 57% played less, 46% were less active, 35% slept more and were more fearful than before, 32% ate less, and 30% exhibited more whining or barking. Interestingly, the amount of time the dogs spent together had no effect on the results, according to the study.
In relationships deemed friendly, “the surviving dog was significantly more likely (1.3 times) to play less and to eat more or similar after the death event,” according to the paper. Interestingly, emotional eating has previously been reported in dogs, and it tends to happen more when the dog loses a parent or offspring.
Acquiring these results was a fairly straightforward process—it’s the interpretation of this data that’s the bigger challenge. Can it truly be said that these altered behaviors are signs of grief?
An obvious shortcoming of the paper is that all the results came from self-reported surveys. It’s wholly possible that the owners are misconstruing the behaviors of their surviving dogs, and/or are projecting their own feelings onto their pets, as they themselves are still feeling the effects of the loss. The researchers considered this, but they believe it’s unlikely.
“Surprisingly,” the scientists write, “the owner’s vision of life, humanisation of pets and the view of animals and humans as being on the same continuum … did not correlate with any reported canine behavioural changes occurring after the [companion] died.” The researchers say this is “important because it indicates that the owner is not simply projecting grief on their dog based on their own sentiments; the reported changes are thus more likely to be real.”
Personally, I’m not sold on this interpretation, and I believe the projection of grief should be accounted for. It’s likely not the whole story, but certainly part of the conversation in my opinion. A future study should seek more objective ways of collecting data. It’s also important to consider that the altered, and potentially negative, behaviors of grieving dog owners could be the reason for some of the observed changes in the dogs. As many a dog owner will attest, canines are excellent at picking up on the emotional cues of humans, and they often feed off it, sometimes to detrimental effect.
Another possible explanation for the altered behavior is the sudden disruption of the surviving dog’s routine. As the authors write: “Social animals have a strong tendency to co-operate and synchronise their behaviour, and this happens in domestic dogs as well.” This helps to maintain group cohesion, and it allows animals “to get the benefits of social living, and may be disrupted in the case of a death in the group,” as the paper points out. Strong bonds between dogs can result in integrated routines, “which may explain the changes observed after the death event in the behaviours of surviving dogs,” the scientists say.
It’s also possible that dogs truly have the capacity for attachment, and that the “loss of a conspecific,” as the researchers coldly describe it, “can be considered an interruption of the attachment bond” and an explanation for the observed behaviors. In other words, grief. Or at the very least, separation stress after loss.
If that’s the case, it means we’ve potentially ignored a major welfare issue, as many dogs live with a companion canine. Accordingly, the researchers say it’s important that we gain a better understanding of these behavioral patterns if we’re to truly recognize the emotional needs of dogs.
“However, even if we recognise the importance of these results, we still cannot confirm it was grief,” the scientists conclude. “More research is clearly needed.”​

​My name is Kimberli. I’d like to share with you about my son Aidan and his special relationship with animals, especially a dog named Lily.
 
When Aidan was nine he was diagnosed with a mood dysregulation disorder, along with anxiety and depression. Up until 4th grade, Aidan enjoyed the friendship of two young boys. But, eventually the boys found it hard to handle the stress of Aidan’s erratic emotional shifts so those friendships dissolved. One moved away when his family relocated and the other moved to a different school. The loss of his best friends was devastating for Aidan and left him very lonely, especially at school. It still breaks my heart.
 
Aidan has always had a natural connection with animals. He’s very loving, kind and compassionate with animals of all kinds. During hurricane Harvey, a local dog rescue was collecting leashes to be used for rescuing dogs that were victims of the hurricane, so we gathered some leashes and brought Aidan to the rescue to drop them off. That ignited a spark in Aidan and he donated all his allowance money ($60!) to the rescue for which they in turn named a dog “Aidan” after him to honor his generosity. He also started volunteering with the rescue to walk the dogs there. For Aidan, this was the highlight of each week. He and I would typically walk dogs about three times a week. Then, the rescue made a decision to discontinue the volunteer dog walking after a volunteer accidentally let go of a leash and a dog escaped. Luckily, that dog was found safe. This was another devastating blow for Aidan. The dog walking was something he looked forward to and not only did he get to connect with animals, but it got him exercising which helped with his anxiety and depression. 
 
I started to think of other solutions and decided to reach out to neighbors who had dogs to see if they would hire Aidan to walk their dogs. This is how we connected with our neighbor Barbara. Barbara had a poodle mix named Lily who was in her last phase of life and Barbara thought Aidan should walk her. A beautiful friendship began between the Aidan & Lily … and between Barbara and our family.
 
Barbara credits Aidan for breathing new life into Lily. Every time Lily seemed to be near death, Aidan would visit her and she would perk up. There were times when Lily was really sick and Barbara needed Aidan’s help giving her medication or fluids and Aidan would run over immediately to help comfort Lily—and Barbara. The pandemic made dog walking tricky, but Aidan continued to walk Lily until she eventually passed away in June 2020. Lily wound up living a few years longer than anyone had expected she would.

The relationship Aidan had with Barbara and her two other dogs continued. Aidan started walking one of her male dogs named River. It wasn’t the same connection, but it was still nice for Aidan to have the opportunity and it was nice to continue to visit with Barbara since Barbara had developed a real love for Aidan, as Lily once had. Walking River gave Barbara an opportunity to continue seeing Aidan and vice versa. And it gave Barbara and me a chance to catch up and commiserate about the pandemic. We became close friends and also started grocery shopping for each other during Covid. To this day we still help each other with grocery shopping and we talk/text almost every day. I also continue to walk River at least once a week. 
 
Unfortunately, the pandemic was extremely hard on Aidan. The isolation compounded his depression and anxiety so he was not able to regulate his emotions. We enrolled him in a wilderness therapy program in the summer of 2021 and, following that, placed him in a residential therapeutic school immediately. Luckily the school has cats, horses and some of the therapists have dogs they bring in so Aidan can get his animal fix, but his connection with Lily was really quite special and will always be treasured … and connected us with Barbara for life. 
 
P.S. There’s more to this story. Aidan has become my Special Technical Advisor! I’m in the process of writing a dog rescue story for children and Aidan is reviewing my manuscript to make sure the dialogue is hip and in step with the way kids talk these days.

​

Lance, a border collie and the main character in the book Lance: A Spirit Unbroken, was purchased from what may very well have been a puppy mill in an attempt to make a dysfunctional family more functional. This is the classic case of the road to hell being paved with good intentions. Not only did that family remain troubled, but Lance, only a few weeks old, was unceremoniously kicked out of the house and tethered to a stake with a heavy chain. This all occurred during the Christmas season.

Although a neighbor did her best to care for Lance, he spent the next ten Christmases and every single day in between them in the not-so-great outdoors, stuck on his hostile owners’ property. The photo on the left shows the entirety of Lance’s world for the first decade of his life.

Just before his 11th Christmas, I met Lance by pure accident. I began walking him from his “prison” on a regular basis, feeling guilty every time I returned him to it. One thing led to another and my wife and I rescued Lance over the Fourth of July weekend in 2002. Six months later Lance celebrated the 12th Christmas of his life inside a home where he was welcome, and in grand style as the photo in the middle shows. He never spent another Christmas trapped outside.
​
At times I feel a tremendous sadness reflecting on Lance’s life but, thanks in large part to Lance himself, I find much to chuckle about. For example, that first Christmas we bought Lance all kinds of cutting-edge dog toys, figuring we'd try to spoil him and make up for at least some of what he'd missed out on growing up. Wouldn't you know he had no interest in the toys (possibly because of his age?). What interested him was what those toys (and everybody else’s gifts) were wrapped in. Once a gift was opened, he’d wait for me to roll the paper it came in into a ball and throw it to him so he could shred it, as he's doing in the photo on the right. Having found out he had such inexpensive tastes, we spent a lot less on him during subsequent Christmases.  I’m confident Lance wasn’t upset at all.