The Joy of Loving a Broken Dog

This post is very personal to me. I’m heavily grieving the loss of my broken dog, Admiral, and every thought I have revolves around him in some way. It’s been five days. Five days of heartache. Five days where the lack of his presence feels like a physical thing. And five days of reflection on the profound impact he had on my life.

He came to me as a foster. He had been found tied to a tree, with a broken leg, in Montgomery County Maryland. It was winter, and the weather was gray. He was emaciated and his hip bones were full of infection. Cold. Wet. Hungry. In pain. And abandoned. Not just abandoned but done in a way that wouldn’t allow him to even try to survive on his own. No animal deserves to be treated in a way that results in this.

Admiral had every reason to be afraid of people. He had no reason to trust us, like us, or even tolerate us. But he wasn’t afraid, and he desperately wanted to belong to someone, even though belonging to someone is what got him into that mess in the first place.

Our journey through his health issues is pretty well documented on his Facebook page, so there’s no need to rehash all of that here. What I want to talk about is our relationship. There is a bond that comes with caregiving that is stronger than anything I’ve experienced before. I started out not knowing much of anything about taking care of, and healing, a special needs dog. Not just the physical care that comes with illness and surgeries, but the emotional issues that may or may not have been caused by his trauma.

Being Admiral’s guardian taught me things I may never have learned without him. I learned how to communicate his needs by observing his facial expressions. This dog was stoic, and never once acted like he was anything less than able bodied. I learned how to stand up for him and say something if I didn’t like the way he was handled by someone who wasn’t me. I learned how to find the right doctors to help him with all his ailments. Admiral had many doctors, and I like to think that I did a good job of respecting each one while seeking deeper answers from another if that’s what I thought he needed.

Admiral and I were a good team. He lived a mostly normal life, which was enhanced by being a good example. I didn’t have to give less time to shelter or rescue volunteering because I had a needy dog at home. I actually got to do more, because he was almost always with me. It’s one thing to tell people about how resilient shelter dogs can be, and that most wind up in shelters through no fault of their own. It’s an entirely different thing to introduce them to my dog and let him show them.

Even though he needed medication to calm his anxiety, combat his chronic pain, and give him relief from itchy allergies, he was still my ideal dog. My focus on volunteering evolved many times over the years, from finding homes for shelter pets to changing perceptions of them. Admiral’s motto for a long time was “Not all good dogs are good because of the way they were raised, many are good despite it.”

Now my focus is on helping other dog parents find the right kind of help for their dogs when they need it. So many people don’t know where to turn when their dogs behave in ways they don’t understand and can’t control. Many people think that training is the only answer, and too many seek advice on the internet. For dogs like Admiral, NEITHER of those options would have led anywhere good, and probably would have made his problems worse. They would have led to needless suffering on both of our parts, money spent that I couldn’t get back to apply to a better option, and likely a much sadder ending than the one I’m experiencing now.

I want people to know that There IS help to be had that doesn’t include blindly trusting professionals who may or may not have the knowledge and/or skills to decode problem behaviors. There ARE professionals who can use science and fear/pain/force free methods to improve the lives of families who fiercely love animals that many people would give up on. And there ARE people who get it, who have been there, and who won’t judge OR profess to know it all while issuing advice they have no business giving. Navigating all of that by yourself, when you don’t know what’s helpful or what’s harmful, is scary, ESPECIALLY if the problems you’re experiencing may lead to not being able to keep your dog.

I’m lucky. I learned how to navigate all of the things that could have led us down a darker road. The love we had for each other was made stronger every time we found a new answer that made things better. Or bond deepened every time I spoke with a specialist who couldn’t help but adore him while cheering us both on as he made progress. And my relationship with his doctors deepened as we rode the downhill spiral at the end. The effort his doctors put into battling his pain, and the resulting behavioral decline, was exceptional. And the realization that everything we were doing was prolonging his life without making it better hit us all hard.

My family were not the only people who cried over losing him. People who never even met him have reached out to me and told me about the tears they shed over him. He touched so many people, and even though right now my days are filled with sorrow, I know that will pass. I will always miss him, but while his friends were glad they got to know him and follow him on social media, I knew the joy of being his person. And he got a second chance at love and life by being my dog.