It was April 2016. My mobility challenged mom had decided that she needed a dog that she could have trained to be an assistance dog. So, after a search of the website for an animal shelter we were both familiar with, we decided on a promising litter of pups that had just been surrendered. One call to the director (who we knew personally) later and our hopes seemed to be dashed. All the pups in that litter had been claimed already. Then the director let us in on a secret: there was a large litter of German Shepherd mix pups that weren’t quite ready to be surrendered but soon would be. She would put us on the list for that litter.
A couple of weeks later the pups were ready for adoption. So, myself, my mom and my three-year-old Border Collie mix Padraig hopped in my car and made the two hour journey to the shelter to meet the puppy that the director thought would best fit our needs. He was only six weeks old, but from the moment he was cradled in my mom’s arms, we both knew this was our dog. The shelter had given him the name Kolton, and my mom decided that was a good name for him. The papers were signed, Padraig sniffed him a time or two, and we headed for home.
A smiley, happy Kolton.
The next few months were pretty typical for a new puppy — potty training, learning to get along with Padraig, vet visits and growth. Pretty soon Kolton wasn’t a roly-poly puppy anymore, but a lanky ball of energy who followed Padraig everywhere. As he developed from baby puppy to young dog, I noticed something incredible. It was obvious he was attached to my mom, but he seemed to have an innate instinct about her. My mom had balance issues, and, at the time, we lived in a three-bedroom ranch where her room was at the end of the hall. When she would make her way to her bedroom at night, Kolton, no matter what he was doing before she got up from her chair, would walk alongside her down the hall, his eyes focused on her as she balanced herself against the wall. He was also fiercely protective of her, even standing over her and not letting first responders aid her after a fall until my mom told him it was okay and one of the responders was able to put him in his crate.
In short, he adored her.
Mom and Kolton the day we brought him home.
2020 brought huge changes in our lives, as it did for so many. The biggest change for my mom and I was her acute myeloid leukemia diagnosis in early July of that year. On July 5, we received the diagnosis and Mom immediately started treatment while I and my siblings struggled to wrap our heads around everything. And just as I was starting to come to terms with the diagnosis and accept that my life would now be centered around my mom’s care, the call from the hospital that I dreaded came in the early hours of July 10. My mom, exactly one month before her 71st birthday, had passed away in her sleep. My first best friend, my biggest cheerleader, was gone.
And I was lost.
I’ll be honest. I don’t remember much of the next several months. We met with the funeral director and planned my mom’s funeral, which I officiated. But the rest of the time, I walked around in a fog, unsure of my direction, not wanting to get out of bed most days. If I’m going to be completely honest, there are times during those months when I would rather have just stopped living. Not that I would do anything to deliberately harm myself, but the desire to go to sleep and just not wake up was a prevalent one.
My saving grace in those dark months was that I had a reason to be forced out of bed every morning. In the wake of my mom’s passing, I had, by default, inherited one floppy-eared, highly energetic, lanky German Shepherd mix.
I say by default but, in reality, it was my choice. When Kolton had reached near full growth, he had become too strong for my mom to manage on her own, so she made noises about rehoming him. Time and again I argued her out of it, and to this day, I’m grateful that I did because this dog who had the energy of a toddler on Red Bull became my reason for getting out of bed.
I’m not going to downplay my own Padraig’s role during those dark months, but it was Kolton’s connection to my mom that kept me going. Though he had been too strong for her to manage physically, he was always gentle with her. And while I was the one to wrangle him most of the time, he was fiercely loyal and protective of her to the day that she left our home for good.
Since her passing, he’s transferred that loyalty and protectiveness to me. He’s a bit more rambunctious with me than he was with my mom, but I think he knows he can be. But he can also be equally affectionate, deliberately seeking me out for ear scritches and neck rubs, which he loves.
He likes naps, too.
In my earlier story, I related how important connection with other humans is, especially during our darkest times. While I am deeply grateful for the humans who kept me going during that time, it was, in truth, that floppy-eared, energetic, lanky German Shepherd mix who saved me from falling into a despair so deep that I might not have come out on the other side. Kolton saved my life.
Studies have shown that pets, especially dogs, are helpful with stress, anxiety and depression reduction. The American Heart Association reports that “[j]ust playing with a dog has been shown to raise levels of the feel-good brain chemicals oxytocin and dopamine, creating positive feelings and bonding for both the person and their pet.”[1] In other words, dogs can be very good for your mental health.
And sometimes, they can truly save your life.
And he loves to keep me company in my office.
[1] “5 Ways Pets Help with Stress and Mental Health.” American Heart Association, May 20, 2021, www.heart.org/en/healthy-living/healthy-bond-for-life-pets/pets-as-coworkers/pets-and-mental-health.
This post originally appeared at my home at Medium. You can find it here.