I used to think so utilitarian that I thought that having a dog, or any pet for that matter, was a net neutral endeavor. That owning a dog was a selfish act brought about by desperation and need for companionship. That having a dog meant that their owner is inherently unable to be at peace with themselves. While these are harsh criticisms, I’ve ruminated on the topic long enough to talk myself into the near opposite end of the spectrum.
I realize that my first rash analysis discounted two primary outcomes of having a dog. One being the dog’s ability to help the owner grow as a person, through fostering responsibility, patience, gratitude, discipline, and many other characteristics. The second being the collective good and happiness that others have experienced through spending time with your dog. Even seeing a beautiful dog across the street can make my day better at times.
There is also something quietly beautiful about the rhythm a dog brings to life. The morning routine of feeding and walking, the gentle nudges in the middle of the day for a pet or for some attention, the unspoken comfort of their presence when the house is otherwise silent. Dogs don’t just occupy space, they anchor it. Dogs find a way to constantly remind us to pause, to play, and to rest. Over time, it’s in these ordinary moments that an extraordinary bond is formed.
I used to think that, seeing your puppy grow up to be 10 or 12 or older, and then having to experience the loss of letting them go was life balancing out all of the joy that you felt while they were alive. That all things in life balance in one way or another. I have since evolved my thinking to be that life is a double-helix building towards the heavens, and that our lives are each a dot on one end of the helix, moving upwards but from one end to the other. We are brought from sorrow to joy and back again, but never empty handed. When we see sorrow a second time, we have gone a full upward loop on the double-helix and are a better person having once experienced this pain. We are better for having had these loving companions in our lives in so many ways.
In the end, dogs teach us something profound about what it means to love and to live. They invite us into a rhythm of care and presence, reminding us daily of what truly matters. While their lives are fleeting compared to ours, their impact is lasting. They enhance our capacity for compassion, expand our sense of connection, and soften our hearts. To share your life with a dog is not a selfish act, but a sacred one and one that represents an opportunity to practice the kind of love that asks for nothing yet gives everything. For that, I am now certain we are unquestionably better off.