Three of the most valuable lessons I have received so far are as follows:

1. Giving gifts is more satisfying than getting them (from my Auntie Cathy)

2. Nobody is looking at you because they’re all too worried about everyone looking at them (from my mother)

3. You can’t control anything (from my dog)

I’ll focus on the last one for this letter.

In 2020, I was living in Dawson City, Yukon, where everyone and their dog had a dog. It was a matter of practicality: dogs provided company on solitary winter days, safety from bears, and something to watch in lieu of TV.

In early June, I saw a Facebook post from a Whitehorse animal rescue group: a picture of a gorgeous Husky/Rottie cross with a fish hook in his mouth. Cut to me driving 6 hours to meet this dog, having dinner with his foster family Brian and Patti, and staying the night in their motorhome.

I had the night to "consider" whether or not I was up to adopting this dog. His behaviours were on full display all evening: mouthing, jumping, whining, and an inability to settle.

My first lesson was that if you drive 12 hours round-trip to consider adopting a dog, you have probably already made your decision. He could have attacked me and I would have taken him home the next day. Looking back, that’s more or less what happened.

I drove home from Brian and Patti's in my little red Mazda B2200, Yukon summer blazing, the midnight sun effect on full blast. Hot dust rose in plumes in the wake of my truck. The dog riding shotgun came with the name Rocky, which felt a bit too tough for us. I settled on Rookie.

He was only 1! A newbie, a fresh green shoot of a dog. Troubled past be damned (abandonment by first family? Fish hook mystery?), we were starting fresh together.

Among the numerous traits I inherited from my Nana is a deep and abiding love of all dogs. Troubled dogs, hyper dogs, "bad" dogs… the lot. Rookie was a gorgeous mix of all three, and I was devoted to him.

I spent the next year pouring my heart and soul into training this absolutely wild mutt. He was so smart, so beautiful, and so warm-hearted— he learned everything I could teach him in 5 seconds flat and got bored just as quickly.

Rookie also had a deep mistrust for humans, and not-insignificant trauma. Another lesson: just because I love this dog and am trying as hard as I can to create trust in our relationship doesn't mean it will happen. The epitome of the "I can change him" fallacy.

Having a reactive dog requires you to advocate for them constantly. You have to say "no" to people who want to greet him, explain why he is in his crate when there are people over "just wanting to say hi", and keep him away from triggers like people wearing sunglasses, work gloves (?), or large coats (tricky in the Yukon). Oh, and all other dogs when he was on-leash. Did I mention how many dogs are in Dawson City?

Saying no was very new to me, and it stressed me the fuck out. I needed to learn how to uphold boundaries very quickly, because my dog's wellbeing depended on it. Moreover, I saw Rookie as an extension of me, and being that I like to keep things pretty buttoned up, his behaviour was extremely not cool to my nervous system.

Years passed, training and emotional regulation efforts continued, and still Rookie's aggression towards people grew. Trust between us eroded very quickly, and a couple of key bombs went off in my personal life, resulting in my already-frayed nerves reaching crisis levels of instability.

Letting Rookie go felt like failure. After spending countless hours and a lot of money on training (both for him and myself), I found a new home for him. This was the hardest thing I have ever done, and a decision I truly wouldn't wish on anyone. Leaving him at a farm with a lovely woman whose name I can't remember, driving away from my dog, was the deepest heartbreak I can imagine. I played a show that night and was an absolute shell of a human.

I am so grateful to Rookie for being a saintly companion while I tried to do right by him. He was also doing his best, but his priority wasn't to be the well-behaved, calm dog I desperately wanted him to be; it was to keep himself safe in a world that never felt very safe at all.

Love and hard work aren't always enough. I couldn't love Rookie into becoming a different dog, nor should I have tried. So I did the kindest thing I knew how to do, which was to release us both from a situation where neither of us could meet each other's needs. I will always miss him.

xoxo