Dogs, Grace, Healing: The Gift of Faithful Companions

Coming home to my pups after being away to move my girl into her dorm and help my son get settled on his next venture, I realized just how much I had missed the furry babies while I was gone.

I realized how much having them has healed my heart.

I realized how much they fill my life while my kids are spreading their wings.

I know my college kids will miss their pups this semester, too: their unconditional love, their joyful antics, the way they make a house feel like home.

Isn’t that why we love these pups in our lives? They are loyal and lovable.

This past weekend, the kids and I reminisced about our Bonnie Maize’s birthday on August 24th; she would have been 15. We also remembered that August was the month we lost Gracie, so many years ago. We had her for 14 years. Now Clyde has been with us for 9 years, and Rue for 8 months, but it feels like 8 years.

We said we can’t imagine life without any of them, even though these past eight months of training a new puppy have been difficult on my heart and frustrating to our routine at times and very rough on our need to sleep as we grieved.

This morning, I begrudgingly got up to let Rue out after her “hey, I’m awake bark” woke me.

It was much too early, considering it was a full weekend and a long drive yesterday.

I wasn’t eager to start the day. But as I opened the door, I was greeted by the cool air, the sun peeking through the trees, and her furry little face and gentle eyes waiting for me.

I learned today is International Dog Day. I know not everyone is a dog lover…that’s okay and please bear with me. I don’t usually jump on a bandwagon of “national days,” but today feels worthy of a pause. Worthy of sharing some thoughts on why dogs are such a significant part of our lives.

The kids and I have talked a lot about it these last several months, especially after we took a short trip to the beach with our dogs. What a gift that time was.

What a gift these companions have been in our lives—even when some dissenters made me question a decision (to get a new pup) I had carefully and prayerfully discerned.

Dogs have been a part of almost every season of my life, as well as the kids’. They don’t know a time without our furry friends. Their companionship has carried me, their loyalty has healed me, and their love has filled places I didn’t always know needed to be healed and loved.

That’s the beauty of dogs and furry companions—they are the very definition of unconditional love.

I can hardly remember a time when I didn’t have a furry friend to love, running amok through my home and life.

Growing up, my dad would bring home stray dogs (and sometimes wild rabbits) he found—or rescued—along the way. The truth is, in many ways, we all need saving or rescuing at times. I’ve come to see these dogs as part of God’s rescue, His good and perfect gifts sent to comfort, companion, and heal.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights.” — James 1:17

Later in life, my dad shared with me that he would have really loved to be a vet if he’d had the chance and means to study and train. Our home was often full of furry friends, though at times overwhelming with many dogs coming, mismatched temperaments, and hard goodbyes. Though I was frightened at times by some of the dogs he brought home, I got my love for these faithful companions from my dad. I learned early that the gift of loving a dog often comes with the ache of having to let go. My dad once shared that’s why he could no longer have a dog: it became too hard to care for and let go of them.

When Jon and I married, it didn’t take long for us to welcome our first “baby”—a timid white standard poodle we named Gracie. We found her at the SPCA, cowering in a corner after her sister was adopted earlier. We rescued her, but I think she truly rescued us.

She quickly became ours—love at first sight. Gracie was my companion during Jon’s long hours in P.A. school and his late hospital shifts in our first years of marriage. She greeted me each morning, walked with me each evening after my long work days, and later stood guard over our babies—whimpering when they cried, alerting me when they needed me. She was my partner in those early days of motherhood before I even realized how much I needed one. Like Nanny in Peter Pan.

After 14 years, bidding farewell to Gracie shattered me more than I could have anticipated. She wasn’t just a dog—she was family, our first baby.

“Having a dog will bless you with many of the happiest days of your life and one of the worst.” — Unknown.

Just months later, Jon found Bonnie through another show dog owner and trainer. At 2, she was well-trained—mostly—with some experience as a show dog and a bit of attitude. She was not quite as graceful as our Gracie; maybe she was a bit more sassy and barky, but oh so lovable and fun. She was an answer to a prayer when I wasn’t in a place to train a puppy with four kids in three different schools, but we wanted a new dog to fill our lives after losing our Gracie Girl.

Soon after came Clyde, our feisty little Frenchie, who became her partner in crime. Bonnie and Clyde-hehehe. He was a bit more difficult to train and then “untrain” and retrain when the kids—and Jon—broke the rules, and he just loved him so much and got away with so much—still does.

But he is still just the most chill, high-maintenance pal you will ever meet.

I still smile when I remember those early days of training Clyde. He was so tiny he could barely reach his food bowl, often climbing right inside it to eat. Jon was the one who faithfully got up in the early mornings with him before heading to work, while he took the bedtime shift after tucking the kids in. I got the middle of the day—and all the fixing of what they undid, like my rule of “no dogs on the couch.” That never really worked out.

Training a puppy is never easy, but sharing the work—just as we did when raising our kids—made it lighter. Now it feels like such a gift that we did it together. Perhaps that’s why training Rue has felt so challenging, so emotional, so different at times (oh, grief), even though the kids and I have done it together.

Bonnie and Clyde were constant companions—and in Jon’s last years, they were also his guardians. Bonnie never left his side after treatments and hospital stays, and Clyde often curled up on his bed when he couldn’t sleep, even until the bitter end. Their devotion was a sight that moved me to tears. They seemed to understand.

When Jon was at a loss for words, they didn’t demand a thing from him. They just loved him where he was. We humans can learn a lot from dogs.

May we be more present in silence and stillness and demand less of one another.

We humans can learn a lot from dogs. They just love us where we are.

heather Lebano

I can’t forget (and will plead the fifth if ever asked) about the time we snuck the dogs to the rehab hospital (thanks to a friend) for a visit with Jon. The nurses looked the other way, and I outsmarted security before they knew what had taken place. It made Jon’s day to see his furry friends after so much time in the hospital.

When Jon left our world much too soon, the dogs grieved too. Just hours after his passing, Clyde pressed into the space where Jon slept, almost as if he still felt him there, crouching on the bed as if Jon’s hands were still scratching his ears and paws like always.

Bonnie, already aging and fragile, carried on a little longer for us. But she missed Jon. Soon cancer and a broken heart took her too, just months after our first anniversary without Jon. It was another loss, layered on top of our already broken hearts.

Then we found a new pup and named her Rue. Her name, meaning both sorrow and companion—and sometimes regret—fits the season we were and are in. Trust me, when I say regret, eight months into this journey with a new pup, there were moments when I felt like giving up on training her and wondered what I had gotten myself into. “Re-home” may have entered the chat.

I honestly didn’t think I would make it through the puppy days, especially after I fell and dislocated and tore my shoulder, leaving me unable to walk or hold her until only recently. I am so grateful to those who supported us during that time and reminded me that this was only a small, difficult window—one that would be worth both the wait and the weight in gold.

Raising a puppy without Jon was filled with waves of unexpected emotion. It was often overwhelming—just like reaching many milestones without our beloved husband and father by our side. I wasn’t prepared for how much my heart ached knowing that he wouldn’t be part of these memories.

But Rue has also brought tons of playfulness, laughter, comfort, and healing when we needed it most. Her presence has taught us patience, discipline, and resilience. She’s been a constant reminder that joy and sorrow often walk hand in hand. She is love.

Dogs have been with me through every chapter—from childhood strays, to helping me mother new babies, to the ones who stood vigil at Jon’s hospital bed, to the pups who filled our hearts with love and antics just when we needed them most. They’ve filled the silence with love, carried us through the hardest nights, and reminded me again and again that healing can show up with four paws and a wagging tail.

May we remember that the presence of love—even in something as simple as a dog—can carry us through seasons of both joy and sorrow.

If you think of it, would you say a prayer for my kiddos who feel a million miles away from their faithful companions? I know they are missing their unconditional love and joyful antics, too. And would you pray for me, as I know the feeling of being a million miles away from many people I love. While I am excited and hopeful about the upcoming semester, I will miss them, too.

And as I think of these furry, faithful friends, I am reminded once more that every good and perfect gift truly comes from above—even the ones curled at our feet, loving without condition.

Healing often shows up with four paws and a wagging tail—and I will never stop being grateful for the way these faithful companions have carried us through both joy and sorrow.

Heather lebano