Counting a Marriage in Dog Years:

How Our Pets Save Us From Ourselves

During the long and twisty road of my 27-year marriage, I’ve told many stories. Most are partial truths.

On social media, I’ve posted happy vacation moments, loving tributes and family portraits over the years. In person, I’ve had “can you believe it” drinks with friends, “this isn’t working” therapy sessions, and many “mommy/daddy need a minutes” that we hid from our kids. Smashed together, they still don’t tell the full story. For that, you’d have to know what our dogs saw.

If our marriage could be counted in dog years — I’ve had different relationships with the same person.

Each dog — from Zulu who was our newlywed dog, to Elvis who was the puppy of our lives, and now Maggie who is aging with us — joined a different family.

I’d had a childhood filled with pets — gerbils, hamsters, guinea pigs, cats (Mr. Puffy and Mocha) and a Rhodesian ridgeback. My new husband never had pets. He didn’t ooh and aah over friend’s animals and rarely stopped people on the street to pet their dog. He didn’t want one. But, we’d just moved into our first home and were preparing for parenthood. Having a dog was part of my family plan. Since studies have shown that dogs improve…