It’s taken me almost ten years after Peanut’s passing to get a new heart dog, but she’s finally arrived!

A month ago, we brought home a new puppy, a Rat Terrier x Australian Cattle Dog. She’s 5 months old and is already lighting up my life.

I can’t believe it’s been almost a decade. How did I get here? First a quick pause to meet Mesquite:

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had dogs this whole time. Bean was already in the home for a year when Peanut passed away from cancer. I had time to fall in love with Bean. After Peanut died, I got a second dog for him, Zuki, when I knew I wasn’t ready, but she needed a home and Bean enthusiastically chose her. I was heartbroken when Bean died at age of five, in the jaws of a coyote. We still have Zuki, and my husband has also gotten a Lab, his own heart dog, Joey.

As much as I do love Zuki, and as much as it pains me to say, she’s not my heart dog. I think it’s mostly due to getting her too soon after losing Peanut. Ever since Bean passed, I’ve been without a heart dog, as part of a person. I’m not just me, I’m part of a We that includes a canine partner.

Now that I’m reinvigorated and inspired in my work with dogs again, I feel safe enough to vulnerably admit that it’s been hard to summon passion for dog training since losing Bean. Grief had rooted in the places where curiosity about dogs normally lives. I’m the best teacher when I’m also a learner, and I didn’t have my own heart dog to practice with. My heart dogs are also my muses, my greatest teachers, my reason to keep being so fascinated with every head turn, every lip lick, every choice. So many dog trainers burn out and I wonder if we need more grief support in this industry.

I’m grateful that we have had so many amazing collaborations at the GSA because so many amazing humans brought their insightful fire and spirit, and I’ve been able to showcase them. I’m also grateful for the folks who have been learning BAT from past Grisha in all of the self-paced classes. Every time I hear of a dog living their best life because of my work, or a new person gets certified in BAT, I get a little spark of joy and inspiration. It’s been enough to keep me going, but I’ve still been craving the missing part of my heart.

I focused on mourning deliberately when Peanut died and took the time to grieve when Bean was killed, too. Grief has become a special interest of mine, especially after becoming a widow, and I even took classes to learn how to hold grief spaces for others. I am so glad I leaned into my grief intentionally, as it was able to soften much of the heartache I carried. At the same time, there was still more in there, more to grieve in community grief spaces, in conversations, and alone on walks.

I mentioned that grief took up residence in the part of me where my love for dogs lived. This impacted my work. Peanut is at the heart of BAT. He inspired the core of my interest in dogs, and of course, he was my greatest teacher. The most obvious grief was in the first year, when it hurt to show videos of him in workshops. Over time, it became invisible, even to me. I experienced joy thinking of him, not sorrow. Every so often, in a deep community grief ritual, I’d be able to pull up some unprocessed bit of the loss and release it. What I didn’t realize is that I still had some numbness to feel into.

I’d been starting to get curious about having another puppy for the last half a year or so, little sparks of ‘maybe.’ And then last month, the final piece that was holding me back from falling in love with a dog again was able to melt.

I was facilitating an online grief space and ended up, coincidentally, needing to do the Zoom session from my car. I was visiting Seattle, where I lived when Peanut and I first became family. I decided to park my car outside of the apartment I lived in when Peanut came home to us, two-pounds of black furry puppy-ness.

When my turn came to share, the dam broke, and I cried and shared sorrow I didn’t realize I was carrying. After the session, I walked around the neighborhood and thought tenderly of his puppyhood. On the drive home the next day, I decided to get a puppy, but set a timeline for after Zuki passed away. Her nervous system is set high and I didn’t want it to influence the puppy.

But then I spoke with Claire Goyer, who is the administrator of the Grisha Stewart Academy. She gave me more space to share my feelings and talk through the reasoning. We were able to work through ideas of how to navigate the training for the puppy, and I decided the very next day that it was time to find my new heart dog. I’m so grateful for Claire’s patient listening.

I found Mesquite (aka Keeti/Mosquito/Keto) at a local rescue on Petfinder. I was hoping to find a dog who was chill and easy, already socialized. But you get the dog you need, not the dog you want. She had basically never walked outside except in a backyard. Her little paw pads were bright pink. She was terrified of noises, people, dogs, and so much more. And yet in her comfort zone, she’s outgoing, bright, eager, and a bit pushy. It’s been a month and BAT has been working wonders with her.

I have to admit, that despite BAT helping so many dogs, I’ve been battling with a sort of imposter syndrome without Bean and Peanut around. That somehow I’m not qualified to teach people about how to support their dogs if I don’t have a dog of my own that I’m excited to train and work with. That maybe I’ve lost my chops.

Working with Mesquite and watching her quickly open up to this new-to-her world has helped my doubts fall away. I remember why I developed BAT in the first place, and I’m just in awe of it’s effectiveness now as I was then. I remember why it evolved and experience so much joy seeing BAT work for her.

Most importantly, I don’t have to feel like an expert any more. I can feel like a beginner, just a dog mom who is in love and curious and excited to share what works. I’m weaving in more bonding and play and taking note of what survival skills help her the most. BAT feels alive to me again, as I learn how to apply it to expand Mesquite’s world.

If I had it to do the last 10 years again, the main part I would change is my self-doubt that convinced me that numbness was some sort of character flaw, instead of a sign that more grief needed to be felt.

Thank you community grief work for bringing me to this place of acceptance. Thank you Peanut for still being part of my heart, always and forever. Thank you Mesquite, for helping my heart beat again. Also thanks you to the folks over the years who have helped keep BAT alive and have kept my interest in dogs afloat.

So back to my question at the top, when is the right time for a new heart dog? For me, it’s right now. I think it’s just whenever your heart says you’re ready. You may be able to fall in love a month after your dog passes. It might be a year. Or ten. If you’re not ready yet, if you’re feeling numb or resentful or tearful, don’t worry. Just keep leaning into the work of grief. Tears are medicine for the soul. Shed them. We’re all different. Don’t rush it.

Your capacity to love a dog is a treasure that’s just waiting to be found again.