My soul dog

I was walking my dog, Trek, this morning when it hit me. He is my soul dog. I know, I know, a lot of people create strong attachments to their pets, it is not just me. But this is less an attachment, and more about seeing myself in another being fully.

Trek turned 14 this year. He has been with me for over 13 of those years. As I reflect on who I was when I picked him out from the shelter compared to who I am now, I laugh at how we have both evolved. Our paths have been parallel in ways that only two souls that are designed to be in each others lives can be. In some ways, I don’t quite have words for our connection, but because I hold a profound love for him, I will do my best to continually seek words that feel whole enough.

The first thing I noticed about Trek, who was named Sonny at the time, was his ears. They were far too big for his being. When he would turn his head a certain way, one ear would flop down while the other stood straight up. It gave him this goofy quality that made me smile with delight instantly. But then I met this stubborn boy. The shelter told me that he had been returned twice in his short life. He was dog aggressive, food aggressive and kid aggressive. But he also managed to potty train himself because he refused to make his kennel dirty in any way.

Why on earth would I choose a dog with such a colorful history? Good question! I cannot imagine hearing that description today and having any desire to own a dog like that. But young and naive Jenna knew he was her dog the instant she met him. It also helped that my dear friend had her one year old in tow when we got him out for the first time and Trek was anything but aggressive towards him. Perhaps this was a stepping stone on my path of questioning what is said out loud and trusting what my intuition knows. The first lesson he taught me so gently.

And also, I saw my stubborn and misunderstood self in this dog more than I cared to admit. I was barely an adult at that time, just having graduated from physical therapy school and venturing out on my own for the first time. I really didn’t know how to exist outside of the world of academia and schedules and routines. But I knew I was not ready to settle down and this dog gave off the same energy. So we began this journey together.

I can still remember the regret that crept in over the first few days. The temptation to take this wild and stubborn dog back to the shelter crossed my mind more than I care to admit. He was too much like me, too much of a mirror. He was awkward around other dogs and humans. He didn’t know how to slow down or rest. He was constantly charged with energy. He had no idea how to play and when he tried, I had a few too many bite marks to show for it. His intensity felt chaotic and confusing for me but also uncomfortably familiar.

Once we created a routine, filled with lots of runs and play dates with the only other pup he liked, life became easier. If you’ve never had a dog, you may not know the joy of returning home to someone who is so overjoyed to see you that their entire body is shaking, and for that I am sorry. Because knowing he was waiting for me after work made my life better. Knowing that I was no longer alone in this world made my heart feel softer. As cheesy as it sounds, this dog was quickly becoming the love of my life.

We were both lost souls before our worlds collided. We were both uncomfortable in the places we found ourselves but were not quite sure how to express that appropriately. We both found a way to exist that felt more aligned with our soul than I even understood at the time; travel. Within the first three years of our life together, we moved at least eight times, if not more. This perpetual motion served us both so well.

There was constantly something new to explore. There was constantly something to distract us from ourselves. And while we loved having each other, we were not quite sure how to allow other people into our reality. There was this ability we both shared that kept us tethered. We both understood that stability did not feel safe, only mobility did. The only consistent thing in our life was each other. New jobs, new people, new places and new adventures were abounding. This kept us both alive in a beautiful way.

And then time did what time does, it continued to pass. As this sweet but intense soul of a dog aged, I could quietly sense him slowing down. I felt the same urge to slow down within myself. After three years of constantly uprooting myself, I decided it was time to try to find a stable home. The mountains of Colorado became our home. It was an adjustment to say the least.

I can still remember when I bought my first bed and realized that all of my physical possessions no longer fit within my car. I cried that day. It felt like a chain was tied to me in a way. I was afraid for what I did. All the while, Trek, my sweet pup, was content with all the hiking and having a consistent home. I sensed a settling in him when he realized after a few months that I wasn't packing to go anywhere. I wish that settling found me as well.

Even though Colorado remained our home for nearly the next ten years, many moves ensued. But one thing stayed consistent; Trek and our hikes. He continued to have endless energy, hiking double digit miles and still begging for another adventure the next day. Neither of us understood the concept of rest, that is until 2020. Trek, nearing double digits himself, finally began to show his age.

I can still remember the day of the hike, one that I had wanted to do for a long time. It required some challenging logistics and a lot of miles but my friend and I were up for it, and I had no doubt of Trek’s ability. But as the day continued, Trek gradually started to slow down. By the last mile of our nearly 16 mile day, I had resorted to carrying him for short bouts to give his aching leg a rest. All 65 lbs of him! It was the first time I witnessed his body say no. It was not an easy day for either of us.

Over the next few years, we both began to understand the limits of our own bodies. We learned that when the body says no, it means it and it is quite painful to ignore. The miles shortened and the naps grew. As Trek continued to mature, resting more and becoming the gentle soul he is today, I moved through my own journey of softening. I experienced moments in life that forced me to stop and reassess everything. I found myself changing directions and allowing myself to rest for the first time in my life.

When our walks became slower and shorter, I was frustrated at first. What is life without movement and adventure? But Trek knew exactly what I needed. I needed to pause and learn how to sit with myself rather than run away from all that I was feeling. And that is exactly what I did. When I started my meditation practice, inevitably Trek’s head would end up in my lap, asking to be pet. This sweet distraction annoyed me at first but years later, I secretly love every time it still happens.

He has always been attuned to my energy. Anxious, happy, sad, calm, angry, he has felt it all move through him in big ways. My once anxious pup is calm and relaxed most days now. Funny enough, so am I. It took me addressing my own mental health to finally realize that he wasn’t the anxious one, it was always me. When I began to feel more peace, I instantly witnessed how he has always been a reflection of me. Always a mirror, as if our souls were connected in an intense way. We both still have our moments of course, but generally, we reflect the peace our souls feel far more often.

At the end of the day, he has constantly been my guide and teacher through it all. From learning to embrace the messiness of constant travel to leaning into the gentle softness of slowing down. I’m not sure I would be where I am today if it weren’t for the anchor of this dog. He has grounded me when I felt impossibly light and lifted me up when I felt too heavy to carry on. As he quietly snores next to me as I write, I am at peace with how it all has unfolded.

Watching a dog age truly is a beautiful way to understand life. It starts out fast and chaotic, full of energy and excitement. Stability is an unnecessary thing and life is all about adventure and play. And then comes a time to begin to learn the limits of your abilities. The body asks for rest and gentleness. Life slows down in every way. We can fight this inevitable journey or we can embrace it. Watching Trek embrace life as it is, every day, continues to teach me. Slow down, rest often, be gentle with yourself, soak up the sun and still adventure a little.

I know soon he will leave his physical form in this world. But I am certain that his soul will maintain a deep presence in my life. Soul connections like this are not something that end, they simply transform. But I know this sweet one has a few more lessons to teach me and I will continue to be a humble student.