An Old Dog Teaches Me New Tricks

I found a walking buddy, and he’s teaching me how to live with my husband’s ALS.

When my gym closed, I turned to cross-country skiing every day. When the snow melted, I took up Nordic walking around our fields.

One day, returning from my walk, I went to check on my husband.

“Comet’s upset,” Todd said. He often speaks on behalf of his dog, as if he can read his mind. “He was looking out the window at you walking, and he was whining. He kept looking to me like he wanted me to do something about it. I told him, ‘Yeah, you and me, too, buddy.’”

Todd wanted to get a dog after we had built an accessible home in the country. I feared a dog would mean more work for me. I already felt maxed out with our young children and Todd’s progressing disability. But I had fond memories of growing up with pets, so I came around to the idea. The kids were excited.

After seeing an ad in our local newspaper for goldendoodle puppies, we went to inspect the litter. We fell in love with one of the curly blonde pups that the breeder called Lazy Boy. I liked the idea of getting a low-energy dog, but he dropped the act as soon as we brought him home. We named him Comet.

That first summer, Comet was Todd’s buddy. He followed him wherever he went. When Todd’s legs began to weaken, Comet would ride on the floor of Todd’s scooter.

Hoping to extend his lawn mowing career, Todd got a zero-turn lawnmower that he could operate with a single joystick. Comet hopped up on the deck, and the two of them maintained 5 acres of property.

Comet was Todd’s shadow in the summer of 2013. (Photos by Kristin Neva)

One of Comet’s first disappointments in life was when the neighbor boy took over mowing and didn’t want Comet riding around with him. But Comet adapted.

Comet’s second big disappointment was when Todd traded in his scooter for a wheelchair. At first, Comet was excited to see Todd’s new ride, but by that point, he was a full-sized, 70-pound dog. Comet tried to climb on, but the foot rest was much too small. Comet still happily followed Todd around the yard.

Comet has adapted well to Todd’s shrinking world, when the disease made it difficult to leave the house. He’s a social dog, so he was delighted when Todd started getting caregivers in our home. He was a little obnoxious, nuzzling the bath aides or physical therapist for attention, so Todd taught Comet to “show ’em your rug.” Ever eager to please, Comet picked up his repurposed bathmat and wagged expectantly. Now it’s the first thing he grabs whenever we have a visitor. People usually affirm him for this behavior, reinforcing the idea that humans love to see his rug.

Todd now spends most of his days in his office, because he feels most free when he is on his computer with access to the world through the internet. Comet spends much of the day lying behind Todd’s wheelchair. Todd enjoys having another warm body in the room with him. Todd can’t pet Comet himself, but sometimes he has one of the kids place his hand on Comet’s head.

Comet tells Todd whenever he wants to go out, using that telepathy trick they have, and Todd will call for me or one of the kids. Comet practically begged Todd to ask me to let him join me the next time I went walking.

“Oh, I suppose,” I said.

Comet wagged harder.

“Ready? Let’s go.”

Comet on a walk with Kristin. (Photo by Lani Siirtola)

Comet has been my walking buddy almost every day for a month now. He’s a good companion. He wholeheartedly enters into whatever happens, whether it’s a trip to the big lake or a walk around the field. But he’s also usually content to lie in Todd’s office.

Of course, Comet gets disappointed when he doesn’t get to do things he’s come to expect. The other week, he missed out on a couple days of walking after I got exasperated when he ran off to play with the neighbor kids two days in a row. Todd said he sadly watched me out the window and whined. I don’t begrudge him that. In fact, I can even relate to him because there are times I feel similar disappointment when I see others doing things I wish we could do, too.

I sometimes whine a little in my journal. But then I try to be like Comet and get on with life as it is. Comet doesn’t dwell on the past. He doesn’t dread the future. He embraces the moment.

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