WHY WE HAVE A DOG

When I walk down the street with our Labradoodle, Max, people often stop and say, “He’s so cute. So handsome.” I usually answer with a smile, “Just take a look at the owner.” They laugh. It’s a joke—but like most good jokes, it carries a bit of truth. Max opens people. He invites smiles, slows the moment, and reminds us that joy often arrives before words.

Our life with Max began in June 2017, when I was searching for a gift for my wife on our 50th wedding anniversary. Jewelry no longer felt meaningful. I wanted something alive—something that would grow with us.

We hadn’t had a dog for fifteen years. We were busy working and traveling. When I mentioned a breeder in Monterey who raised Australian Labradoodles, my wife resisted. “We don’t need this responsibility,” she said. She was right. Responsibility is rarely convenient. But it is often meaningful.

Not long after, we returned from a cruise to Norway’s fjords, we drove to Monterey. The moment she held that small, warm creature in her arms, the decision was made. Some choices belong to the heart, not the calendar.

Max asks for very little—food, care, a walk, and to play ball. In return, he gives more than we expected. He greets us with joy, and lives fully in the present. He communicates through his eyes, his paws, his quiet presence. Over time, I learned to understand him. Or perhaps I simply learned to pay attention.

People call dogs our “best friends.” The phrase is familiar, but true. Friendship is not about conversation; it is about presence. Reliability. Being there. In my forthcoming book “How to Enjoy Comfortable Aging”, one of the chapters is called “If you want a best friend, become one.” As we age, life gently asks us to let go—of speed, of certainty, of roles. A dog pushes back against that shrinking. He gives structure to the day and softness to the heart. A reason to walk. A reason to return home. A reason to be needed.

When I asked ChatGPT a simple question—Why would I need a dog?—the answer ended with this line: “And maybe most of all, you have a dog because life asked you to take care of something that would, in return, take care of your heart.” It sounded like poetry—because it was true.

Having a dog is not about filling loneliness. It is about sharing presence. About choosing care at a stage of life when many are told to simplify, step back, and withdraw. Sometimes, comfortable aging is just this: walking a little slower, with someone who is perfectly happy simply to walk beside you.

This story features three recent photos of Max.

Enjoy, and share with a friend.