His name was Dan, and he was my partner for ten years. By the time he died in 2016, we hadn’t been together for a long time. But he was a kind soul, and we remained friends. Actually, that’s not quite right. We were family.

I’d met Dan at church, which seemed promising from the start. My parents met at church, and they always encouraged me to do the same. When Dan came along, I hoped maybe I’d found my person the same way they had found each other.

I hadn’t. Dan turned out to be a much better friend than partner. But, over the years, he earned a place in my heart. I’ve learned, the hard way, that some friendships become part of you, even after the person is gone.

Baldwin’s Daddy

Dan was a musician, and a very talented one. He had more than one brush with success, but somehow the big break never quite stuck.

He was also one of those people I would describe as happy-go-lucky, even though life wasn’t particularly kind to him. Most of the time, he managed to keep his sense of humor and his positive attitude. And he loved my dogs. Especially Baldwin.

When Dan and I finally broke up for good, his relationship with Baldwin didn’t end. Baldwin loved Dan, and Dan loved him right back. Whatever had changed between Dan and me, nothing had changed between the two of them. Dan was Baldwin’s daddy. We may not have worked as a couple, but somehow, we had become family.

He Was Like That

Even after Dan and I were no longer a couple, he would drive all the way from Venice to my home in the San Fernando Valley to take care of Baldwin when I was away. Sometimes, he’d make the drive just to take the fluff ball for a walk.

And when my Muppet-looking dog was recovering from canine knee surgery, and I bought one of those doggie baby carriages for him, Dan had no problem pushing Bozzie Bear around in it. If Baldwin needed a carriage, Dan pushed the carriage. He was like that.

After my mother died, I needed to move back into our family home to help my father, who was suffering from Parkinson’s. Dan stayed for an entire month to help me get settled.

This was a musician who was decidedly not a morning person, yet during that month, he got up early to help me with my dad. He even tried to teach him how to send and receive emails. I can picture it now: Dan patiently sitting beside him at the computer while Parkinson’s was making so many ordinary things difficult. These aren’t the dramatic moments people usually remember when they talk about love. But maybe they should be.

Driving the crowded 405 freeway to walk a dog who wasn’t technically yours anymore. Pushing that dog in a baby carriage because he couldn’t walk on his own. Getting up early, even though you hated mornings, because someone else’s father needed help.

Dan and I weren’t meant to spend our lives together as a couple. But when I needed him, he showed up. Again and again. That was Dan.

The Accident

Shortly after we moved in together, Dan was hit by a car as a pedestrian. I wrote about our relationship and the accident in my first book, I’m Not Single, I Have a Dog: Dating Tales From the Bark Side, where I changed his name to Mick. But what neither of us understood at the time was how profoundly that accident had changed him.

The Dan I knew before the accident wasn’t quite the same Dan afterward. Much later, he learned that he had suffered a traumatic brain injury.

For years, he apparently had been able to keep some of its effects at bay through something he’d practiced faithfully every day: meditation. Then meditation stopped helping. The headaches became terrible. And so did his despair.

The Calls

As the effects of the TBI became harder for Dan to live with, he tried to take his life more than once. And every time, he would call me for help. I would drop everything and come to the rescue. Again. And again. Because that’s what you do when someone you love tells you he doesn’t want to live. But eventually, there was one call I couldn’t take.

It wasn’t because I didn’t love him. I was struggling with my own demons. I had lost Baldwin. I had lost my dad. I had lost a good friend on 9/11. I was grieving my own losses and running on empty. I had dropped everything so many times to help Dan. But that weekend, I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it again.

A couple of days later, I got the call. Dan was dead. He had taken his own life. Even now, all these years later, those words are hard to write.

The Question That Doesn’t Go Away

There is a particular kind of grief that follows a suicide. Along with missing someone comes the endless inventory. What did I miss? What could I have done? What if I had called? What if I had answered? What if I had gone over there one more time?

I know Dan’s death was the culmination of far more than a single unanswered phone call. I know he had been suffering for a long time. He had even tried to admit himself to UCLA for help that weekend, as he had many times before, but there were no beds available.

I know all of that. And still, there is a part of me that goes back to that call. What if I had answered?

That’s the thing about guilt. It isn’t particularly interested in what you know intellectually. It finds the one moment you wish you could change and makes a home there. For me, that place will always be the unanswered phone call.

The People Left Behind

We talk about suicide prevention, as we should. We talk about recognizing the warning signs. We tell people in crisis to reach out. We encourage friends and family to listen and take threats of suicide seriously.

All of that matters. But I think we also need to talk about the people who remain after someone dies by suicide. Because their lives change, too.

There are people walking around carrying a last conversation, a last argument, a missed warning sign or, like me, an unanswered phone call. Some are convinced they should have known. Some believe they should have done more. Some replay the final days so many times that memory itself becomes a kind of punishment.

I’ve done enough of that. I loved Dan. I helped him many times. And on one terrible weekend, I had nothing left to give.

I wish I had answered the phone. I probably always will. But I am trying to understand that wishing I could change the ending doesn’t mean I was responsible for writing it.

What I Want to Remember

When I think about Dan now, I don’t want his death to swallow his life. I want to remember the musician. The funny guy. The man who got knocked down by life and somehow kept expecting something good around the corner.

I want to remember going to church together when I was still hoping he might be “the one.” I want to remember the friend he became once we finally understood we were better suited to friendship than romance.

But mostly, I want to remember Baldwin’s daddy. The man who loved that dog so much that, even after our relationship ended, he never stopped being his daddy. That was Dan, too. Especially that.

So, during Suicide Prevention Month, I’m remembering him. Not only how he died. How he lived.

And I’m thinking about everyone who has ever stared at a phone, replayed a conversation or carried the terrible belief that if they had only done one thing differently, someone they loved might still be here.

I don’t have an easy answer for that kind of grief. I only know that after ten years, I’m finally trying to make room for something besides the guilt.

I’m making room for Dan. The whole Dan. The laughter, the music, the dogs, the friendship, the years we shared and, yes, even the parts that hurt.

Because suicide was the way Dan’s life ended. It doesn’t get to be the only thing I remember about the life that came before it.

If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, call or text 988 to reach the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline in the United States. If there is immediate danger, call 911 or go to the nearest emergency department.

The first time I walked into the offices of The Daily Aztec at San Diego State University, I was very popular, though I didn’t know why. Apparently, some of the guys on staff had started taking bets on who would be the first to sleep with me. This was especially funny because I was still a virgin.

I had no idea there was a betting pool going on behind my back. I was just excited to be there and to write about sports, hopefully men’s sports. I didn’t know much about the topic yet, but that was part of the point. I wanted to learn and then write in a way that might help other women learn, too. Mostly, though, breaking into what was still very much a boys’ club sounded pretty cool to a college coed like me.

Of course, there was one other perk I found especially appealing: reporting from the men’s locker room. Alas, The Daily Aztec had other plans for me. My beat quickly became women’s sports. Meanwhile, some of the other writers and editors around me seemed to have something entirely different in mind for the new girl.

And then, true to form, I managed to pick possibly the worst candidate to fall in love with all by myself. His name was Larry. He was from New York. I was a Valley girl; a cheerleader from the Valley. He walked fast, had a hint of a Queens accent, laughed at my jokes, and was unlike any guy I’d ever met. I’m pretty sure I thought all that made him sophisticated.

Best of all, he never seemed to judge me. Around Larry, I could relax and be myself.

Missing Siesta

Our relationship started innocently enough. In fact, the first day we really spent time together began because I was trying to get counseling.

The reason I wanted to talk to a therapist in the first place was that I missed Siesta, the first being in my life who never judged me. My childhood dog was still very much alive, but she was living with my parents while I was away at college.

I was only three hours away in San Diego, but I missed that ugly chihuahua terrier mutt terribly. Her coarse fur was the color of coastal fog with a little tuft of soft hair on her head. I missed that face. Even more, I missed her unconditional love and the comfort of never having to worry about saying the wrong thing or being the wrong version of myself. With Siesta, I didn’t need to perform. I could just be me.

There was no FaceTime back then. No quick video from home showing me what she was doing. I couldn’t look at a phone and see a hundred pictures of her whenever I wanted. She was simply somewhere else, and I was learning that loving a dog and leaving a dog, even temporarily, could hurt more than I had expected.

Eventually, missing her led me to the counseling office at the student center. I didn’t admit that was the reason at the time. My family already thought I loved that dog too much, and I suppose some part of me wondered if maybe they were right.

But the counseling office was closed that afternoon. So, I headed back toward the parking lot, and on the way, I ran into Larry. He was waiting for the bus to go home.

“Let me take you,” I said.

And that was the beginning. It’s funny to think about now. I went looking for someone to talk to because I missed my dog. Instead, I found Larry.

The Annie Hall Kiss

A few days into our budding relationship, Larry told me that we would eventually kiss, and that when we did, there would be all that awkwardness about who would make the first move. So why not just get our first kiss out of the way now?

I found that incredibly touching and clever. How could I resist? Remember, I was still a virgin. It worked.

What I didn’t know was that Larry hadn’t exactly come up with this brilliant romantic strategy on his own. He’d gotten it from Annie Hall, a movie I had never even seen.

Months later, Larry took me to see it, and there on the screen was Woody Allen doing essentially the same thing to Diane Keaton that Larry had done to me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had fallen for a line from a movie. Maybe I should have been annoyed. Instead, I spent much of the rest of my college career going around saying, “La-dee-dah,” just like Annie Hall.

The L in My Byline

Larry became my first lover. He also became my first editor, and he was good at it. I admired his writing and having him edit mine felt important to me. I was learning to be a sportswriter, and here was this man I cared about who was helping me become a good one.

Somewhere along the way, he added an initial to my byline, and suddenly I was: Susan L. Hartzler. There was just one problem. My middle name is Frances. The L stood for Larry.

At the time, I thought this was terribly romantic. Today, the idea of adding a boyfriend’s initial to my professional byline makes me want to reach back through time and have a little talk with that girl.

But I also understand her. She was young. She was in love. And she was figuring out who she was, both as a woman and as a writer. For a while, Larry became part of both.

Apparently, Everything Was a Bet

There was something else about Larry I didn’t yet understand. Yes, the part about being a brilliant writer was true. But I thought he also was an avid sports enthusiast. What I took to be an extraordinary interest in sports turned out to be something else entirely.

Larry was a gambling addict. He bet on everything. Suddenly, all that interest in games and scores seemed different.

And looking back now, there is an irony I couldn’t possibly have appreciated then. My introduction to The Daily Aztec had included a group of men betting on who would sleep with me.

Then I fell for a man who bet on practically everything. Apparently, there was a lot of gambling going on around me in college, and I just didn’t realize I was part of it.

The Girl Who Walked Through the Door

That’s one of the things I love, and sometimes cringe about, when I look back at the young woman I was then. She walked into a college newspaper where the men were taking bets on who would sleep with her.

She was about to become the first female sportswriter at The Daily Aztec. She was still a virgin. She missed her dog so much that she went looking for a counselor and instead came home with a future boyfriend.

She was going to fall for a New Yorker who borrowed his best kissing line from Woody Allen, put his initial into her byline and loved gambling far more than she understood.

She knew none of that when she walked through the door. She just wanted to write. And somehow, all these years later, I think that may be my favorite thing about her. She walked in anyway.

If this brought back memories of the person you were before you knew where your choices would lead, please restack it. Maybe we all deserve to look back at our younger selves with a little more compassion and a little less judgment. ❤️

Join the Pack

If you like stories about dogs, memory, love, mistakes, and the strange roads that bring us to who we are, I’d love to have you join the BlissDog pack. 🐾

Life is better with dogs.
Seven and Paige Turner are living proof.

Imagine knowing you need to leave an abusive relationship. You’ve found the courage. You’ve made a plan. Maybe you’ve packed a bag without your partner knowing. And then you look at your dog. Or your cat. The shelter where you can escape to can’t take them. What do you do?

For far too many people experiencing domestic violence, that isn’t a hypothetical question. I understand part of that fear more personally than I wish I did.

When Pets Become Part of the Abuse

We talk a lot here at BlissDog about the extraordinary bond we share with our animals. They comfort us. They make us laugh. They sleep beside us. They become part of our families. An abuser can understand the power of that bond, too, and use it.

Research has found a disturbing link between domestic violence and animal abuse. One study revealed that 71 percent of women with pets who entered a domestic violence shelter reported that their partner had threatened to hurt or kill, or had actually hurt or killed, one or more of their pets. Yes, the animal who may be providing someone with comfort when they need it most can become another means of control.

Other research shows that many survivors delay leaving because they fear what will happen to their animals. I know what it’s like when that violence reaches your dog. Because it happened to Blondie.

I Was One of the Lucky Ones

Years ago, I was in an abusive relationship, which I’ve written about in my memoir, I’m Not Single, I Have a Dog: Dating Tales From the Bark Side. Eventually, I left.

But I had something many people escaping domestic violence don’t have: somewhere safe to go with my dog. When she heard about my predicament, my dear friend Berry Berenson Perkins invited Blondie and me to come live with her.

She didn’t say I could come but my dog couldn’t. So I packed up, left my apartment and my boyfriend behind, and moved in with Berry. I thought Blondie and I were safe. I thought I’d never have to see him again. I was wrong.

The Night He Hurt Blondie

One night, I went to a party at a friend’s house near the Sunset Strip. He was there. The moment I saw him, I took Blondie and left. I didn’t want a confrontation. I just wanted to get away from him. But he followed us.

Blondie and I ran as fast as we could, but he was faster. When he caught up with us, he threw me against a brick wall and began hitting me. I remember shielding my face. Even while he was hitting me, I was thinking about hiding what was happening. I didn’t want any bruises to show.

Then he grabbed Blondie’s leash from my hand. He pulled her off the ground and held her in the air as she struggled to get free. He said something about how I loved her more than I loved him. At that moment, I found my courage. I had to protect Blondie. So, I punched him in the face. He dropped her leash. Blondie and I ran to my car and got away.

No One Asked Me to Choose

I’ve thought about that night many times over the years. I know my situation wasn’t the same as those who stay with an abuser because they’re terrified of leaving an animal behind. By the time Blondie was attacked, I had already left. But that’s precisely what makes me realize how fortunate I was.

When I needed to leave, the person who opened her home to me also welcomed my dog. No one ever asked me to choose.

What if Berry had said I could stay with her, but Blondie couldn’t? What if I’d had nowhere else to take Blondie? What if I’d believed the man I was leaving might hurt Blondie to punish me?

I don’t know what I would have done. But after seeing what he did to her that night, I understand why that fear could keep someone from leaving. An abuser who knows how much you love an animal knows exactly where one of your greatest vulnerabilities lies.

A Safe Place for Both

Today, only about 20 percent of domestic violence shelters in the U.S. accept pets, although that number has more than doubled since 2019. That’s a dramatic improvement from 2012, when the figure was only about 3 percent, but it still means most survivors can’t count on being able to bring an animal with them.

That has led nearly half of domestic violence survivors to delay leaving. And 48 percent say they wouldn’t consider entering a shelter if their animals couldn’t come with them. Temporary boarding and foster programs can provide another path to safety, but whenever possible, keeping survivors and their animals together preserves an important source of comfort and support during an already traumatic transition.

That’s why efforts to make domestic violence shelters pet-friendly are so important. Greater Good Charities supports programs that help people and animals in crisis. The nonprofit is working with The Jackson Galaxy Project to retrofit domestic violence shelters across the country to make them animal-friendly.

RedRover also focuses on the intersection of domestic violence and animal welfare. The organization’s Safe Escape grants help cover the cost of temporary boarding when a survivor and their pet can’t be housed together immediately. And in partnership with Purina, the nonprofit has created The Purple Leash Project, which is working to make more domestic violence shelters pet-friendly.

There’s even a Safe Havens for Pets directory created by The Animal Welfare Institute, with updated pet-friendly sheltering resources.

Sometimes creating that safe space means adding secure dog runs or outdoor areas. Sometimes it means creating appropriate spaces for cats or other animals. The details may vary. The principle shouldn’t. If the pet is part of the family, the pet needs a safe way out, too.

Donating to and sharing these resources matters. You may never know that someone reading them is, at that moment, trying to figure out how to get herself and her animals to safety.

Why Staying Together Matters

Consider what it takes to leave everything familiar behind. Your home may be gone. Your routine is gone. You may be separated from friends and family. You don’t know what comes next. And during all that upheaval, your dog may be the one familiar presence beside you.

That bond can matter enormously. In fact, 91 percent of survivors surveyed said their pets’ emotional support and physical protection were important to their ability to survive and heal.

We often talk about the comfort animals give us during difficult periods of our lives. Why would we deliberately separate someone from that source of comfort at one of the most frightening moments in her life?

A survivor shouldn’t have to choose between saving herself and abandoning the pet she loves. A child shouldn’t have to leave a beloved animal behind with someone who has threatened to harm them. And a dog or cat shouldn’t become a weapon that one human being can use to control another.

Blondie and Me

I will never forget seeing Blondie hanging from that leash. I had already found the courage to leave the man who abused me, but that night showed me something else: my dog wasn’t merely standing beside me as I went through it. She was a target, too.

Blondie and I were fortunate. We had Berry. No one asked me to leave Blondie behind, nor did anyone ask me to choose between my safety and hers. Every survivor who loves their pet deserves the same opportunity. Because getting someone out of an abusive home shouldn’t mean tearing apart the family she’s trying to save. ❤️

Please consider restacking this one. Someone in your circle may be trying to figure out how to leave an abusive situation without leaving a beloved animal behind. Knowing that pet-friendly shelters, temporary foster programs, and other resources exist could make a difference.

BlissDog is about the extraordinary bond between humans and animals, including both the beautiful and the difficult parts. If stories like this matter to you, I hope you’ll join us. Subscribe to BlissDog for personal essays, stories about the human-animal bond, and the lessons our dogs continue to teach us about love, trust, courage, and connection. 🐾

If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, help is available through the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 800-799-SAFE (7233) or by texting START to 88788. If a pet is making it difficult to leave safely, RedRover’s Safe Escape resources can help connect survivors with pet-friendly sheltering and temporary care.

This week, the world lost Dolly Parton. Since hearing about her death, the tributes have kept coming: the songs, the movies, the rhinestones and the extraordinary career of a woman who touched so many lives. But the stories that stay with me are the ones about her generosity. Throughout her life, Dolly gave an extraordinary amount of herself, her time and her fortune to help others.

I have a personal story about her bigheartedness too. I never met Dolly. But more than 30 years ago, I experienced her kindness firsthand, and I’ve never forgotten it.

🐾 Even Dolly Had a Dog Connection

Since this is BlissDog, I suppose I should begin with dogs. Dolly loved animals. Decades after recording her first single, “Puppy Love,” she created Doggy Parton, a line of pet apparel, toys and accessories, with a portion of the proceeds benefiting Willa B. Farms Animal Rescue in Tennessee. That’s Paige Turner pictured above sporting one of the wigs from the collection.

But my favorite Dolly story has nothing to do with wigs or dogs. It has to do with friendship, grief, a stack of Christmas tapes and one very unfortunate decision to leave some boxes in my car overnight.

🎄 The Christmas After Tony Died

Back in the 80s and 90s, I was best friends with Berry Berenson Perkins and her husband, actor Anthony Perkins. After Tony died in 1992, Berry was left not only grieving her husband but figuring out what to do with the pieces of him that remained. That first Christmas, one of those pieces was his music.

Tony had recorded some Christmas songs. He’d never been happy enough with the recordings to release them, but Berry thought they were brilliant. After he died, she decided she wanted their friends to hear them. And Berry and Tony had many friends.

She made copies of the recordings on cassette tapes and planned to send them as Christmas gifts. One bright December afternoon, only days before Christmas, I went to her house to help. We addressed envelopes. And addressed envelopes. And addressed more envelopes.

It took us practically the entire afternoon, but eventually we’d finished. We packed all those carefully addressed envelopes into boxes so they could be taken to the post office.

By then, it was evening. “I’ll take them,” I told Berry. “I’ll drop them at the post office tomorrow morning.” What could possibly go wrong?

🚗 My Very Bad Morning

At the time, I drove a little Toyota MR2 with a sunroof. My apartment building had a security garage. I locked the car and left the boxes inside overnight.

The next morning, I went downstairs. Someone had broken into my car through the sunroof, carefully removed it, and placed it on the ground. The boxes were gone. All of them.

I was horrified. It wasn’t the monetary value of what had been stolen. It was what those tapes meant to Berry. She’d just lost her husband. She’d put so much love into these Christmas gifts. We’d spent hours preparing everything. And now I had to tell her I’d lost it all.

I left Berry a message and drove straight to her house in Laurel Canyon. I was a wreck the entire way. How was I going to face her?

❤️ “Tony Did This”

When I pulled up, Berry was waiting for me outside. And she was grinning. This was not the reaction I’d expected. I got out of the car and started to explain. Berry stopped me. “Tony did this,” she said. She was convinced of it.

Tony hated those Christmas recordings. He’d never wanted them released. To Berry, the fact that someone had inexplicably broken into my car and stolen boxes containing his recordings was not a coincidence. Tony had intervened from heaven.

I don’t remember whether I laughed immediately, but knowing Berry, I’m sure we eventually did. Then she motioned for me to get back into the car. We were going somewhere. We had help to do the whole thing again.

✨ And That’s Where Dolly Comes In

Berry directed me to an office on the Sunset Strip. We walked inside, and I discovered it was Dolly Parton’s office. As I remember, Berry didn’t know Dolly personally, although I could be wrong. Berry seemed to know everyone. What I do know is that one of her good friends worked for Dolly.

The beloved entertainer was out of town at the time, but when she heard what Berry was going through, she told her staff to help her. And they did.

Think about that for a moment. Dolly Parton was one of the biggest stars in the world. As far as I knew, she barely knew Berry, if at all. There was nothing in this for her. No cameras. No publicity. No photo opportunity. Just a grieving widow trying to send a little piece of her husband to the people who had loved him. And Dolly Parton said: Help her.

💗 The Dolly Parton I Remember

I spent many years working in and around Hollywood. I met celebrities. I worked with celebrities. And I saw plenty of examples of people who had enormous power and very little interest in using it unless there was something in it for them.

That’s probably why I’ve remembered that day for more than three decades. Dolly didn’t have to do anything. She simply could. So she did.

The world knows about Dolly Parton’s philanthropy. Her Imagination Library has given hundreds of millions of books to children. She funded scholarships, medical research, and disaster relief and gave generously throughout her life.

Those are extraordinary accomplishments. But sometimes character reveals itself in much smaller moments. An office. A staff. A grieving woman. And the words: Help her.

I never met Dolly Parton. But I saw what happened when her kindness reached someone I loved. And today, as the world remembers an extraordinary entertainer, that’s the Dolly Parton I’ll remember.

Rest in peace, Dolly. And thank you for helping my friend. ❤️

My dear friend Berry Berenson Perkins died on September 11, 2001. Remembering that afternoon today brings back not only Dolly’s kindness, but Berry’s wonderful ability to find humor and meaning even in the midst of grief.

Looking at Paige Turner today, you might never guess that as a puppy she seemed determined to kill me. Not intentionally, of course. Paige loved me. She also loved adventure, speed, heights, water, and, apparently, enormous male sea lions.

For a while, raising her felt less like having a puppy and more like living with a tiny Australian Shepherd stuntwoman. One of her earliest performances took place at one of my favorite spots in Santa Barbara.

🌊 A Walk in Paradise

I’ve been taking my dogs to the Douglas Family Preserve for years. Perched high on the bluffs overlooking the beach, it’s one of those places that reminds me why I love living in Southern California.

There are trails winding through the trees, spectacular ocean views, and that wonderful blend of pine and salty ocean air. It’s dog-friendly, which makes it even better. Walking there with my dogs has always felt like heaven. Until puppy Paige joined the pack.

On this particular day, I had four dogs with me, including my two Aussies, Seven and Paige Turner. We were walking along one of the trails when it curved toward the bluff, opening to a spectacular view of the ocean below.

The dogs raced around the bend ahead of me, playing chase. Nothing unusual about that. Then I rounded the corner. There were only three dogs.

😱 Where’s Paige Turner?

I counted again. Three. Paige Turner was gone. And directly in front of me was the cliff. My heart sank.

Oh my God. Paige Turner went over the cliff.

I knew the cliff was about a 30-foot drop. Could my little daredevil survive a fall like that? My heart was pounding as I ran to the edge and called her name.

“Paige!” Nothing.

“PAIGE TURNER!” Still nothing.

My entire body was shaking as I looked over the edge. About ten feet below was a narrow lip in the cliff face. The bushes were moving. Paige had to be down there, but I couldn’t see her.

I called again. Nothing. At that point, panic took over. I told the other dogs to stay and started climbing down after her. I didn’t get far before I realized there was no way I could make it down safely. It was nearly vertical, and I am not a rock climber. If I kept going, there was a very good chance we’d both need rescuing.

I climbed back up to the dogs, pulled out my phone, and called the police. “My dog just jumped off a cliff,” I cried.

The very nice officer on the other end remained considerably calmer than I was. He started asking questions to pinpoint exactly where we were. And then... there she was.

🐾 The Return of Paige Turner

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but there in front of me was Paige Turner. She’d somehow scrambled back up on her own, looking like Wile E. Coyote after one of his disasters. Disheveled. Slightly stunned. But very much alive.

I grabbed her. I hugged her. I probably checked every inch of her body ten times over. Paige Turner seemed remarkably unfazed by the entire experience. I, on the other hand, had aged about ten years.

You might think that falling off a cliff would have taught my little thrill seeker to exercise more caution. You would be wrong.

🦭 Let’s Go Meet the Sea Lions!

Not long afterward, Paige Turner, Seven, and I were at a lovely park near the harbor with a group of dogs and their owners. It was sea lion breeding season, and quite a few of them had gathered around the docks. Among them were some very large males.

Everyone else, both four-legged and two-legged, seemed to understand that these were wild animals best admired from a distance. Paige Turner had another idea.

Before I knew what was happening, she took off, scrambling down the rocks along the water’s edge to a spot where I couldn’t possibly reach her. Then she started barking at one of the enormous males. And barking. And barking. The enormous male sea lion was not amused. Neither was I.

“PAIGE!” She kept going.

And then she jumped into the water. Right in front of the enormous brute she’d just been barking at.

🐕 Paige Turner Attempts to Join the Harem

I screamed for her to come back. The sea lion barked and lunged toward her, clearly unimpressed by Paige Turner’s attempt to join his harem. And this wasn’t some cute little seal she had decided to befriend. An adult male California sea lion can weigh hundreds of pounds. And this one definitely did.

Paige Turner was a fluffy Australian Shepherd puppy who apparently believed every living creature was simply another potential adventure. I kept calling her, desperately trying to coax her back while struggling to keep my footing on the rocks.

Thankfully, one of the dog owners at the park was in much better shape than I was. He climbed down the rocks, coaxed Paige into swimming over to him, grabbed her, and delivered my little thrill seeker safely back to her very relieved mother. Once again, she seemed fine. Once again, I was not.

❤️ Before Paige Turner Learned Fear

It’s strange for me to remember that version of Paige Turner now. This was before a dog attack changed her. Before fear entered a little dog who once seemed convinced that nothing in the world could hurt her.

There was something wonderful about that fearless puppy. She approached life as if the entire world had been created specifically for her to explore. A cliff? Let’s see what’s down there. A gigantic male sea lion? New friend!

Danger simply didn’t seem to occur to her. Sometimes I miss that Paige Turner. Although, if I’m being completely truthful, I don’t miss that version of her that much. Because there’s fearless...and then there’s Paige Turner. These days, I’m perfectly happy when my girl keeps all four paws on solid ground.

🐾 Know someone whose dog has taken a few years off their life? Restack this for them.

Join the Pack

If Paige Turner’s adventures made you laugh, I’d love to have you join the pack at BlissDog, where I share stories about dogs, the human-animal bond, and the unforgettable animals who have shaped my life. Subscribe and come along for the ride. Seven would like you to know that your pledge helps keep his cookie jar well stocked. 🐾

Life is better with dogs.
Even the ones who nearly give you a heart attack. 🐾

It started with a phone call from a former client. She needed to find a temporary foster home for her “mini pug.” At least, that’s what I thought she said. In my defense, I was driving and talking on my cell phone. The call kept cutting in and out. Apparently, “pig” was one of the parts that didn’t make it through.

I’d never heard of a mini pug, but I pictured a tiny ball of fluff, snorting, her squished-in face slathering me with kisses. I thought, I love dogs. I have room. How hard could fostering one little pug be?

“I’ll do it,” I said.

🐷 Wait...That’s Not a Pug

We arranged to meet at a Petco halfway between our homes. My former client walked in with a pig. A mini pig. But still, a pig. Apparently, I had missed one very important letter during our phone conversation. And there was Juicy.

She was “mini” in the way people describe miniature pigs, which I quickly discovered did not mean particularly small. She was bigger than my standard-sized Australian Shepherd Bliss. But she was adorable in her T-shirt that read DON’T WORRY, BE HAPPY. And Juicy had a flower tucked into the coarse, stiff bristles sticking straight up from her head.

I took one look at her and thought: This is great! I’ve always wanted a pig. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.

🏡 Welcome Home, Juicy

When I brought Juicy home, Bliss met us at the front door. What had Mom brought home this time? She sniffed. It’s not another dog. She sniffed again. Not a cat. She circled the farm animal, mesmerized. Bliss couldn’t take her eyes off our new guest, and neither could I.

Then Juicy peed in the middle of my living room. A lot. That was my first indication that perhaps fostering a pig was going to be slightly different from fostering a pug.

🚪 The Dog Door Problem

The next problem was the dog door. Juicy figured out how to go out through it. Unfortunately, she couldn’t figure out how to come back in.

This was a problem because I didn’t have a door that led directly to the backyard. Every time Juicy wanted to come back in, I had to go out the front door, around the side of the duplex, and retrieve her.

Juicy went outside to do what pigs do: root around in the ground, tearing up everything in her path. The grass. The plants. Even a little wrought-iron fence I’d bought in New Orleans, which had survived Hurricane Katrina. Juicy somehow demolished it in one night.

When she’d done enough damage, she’d decide she wanted to come back inside. That’s when Juicy stuck her head through the dog door and squealed. If you’ve never heard a pig squeal, let me assure you it’s not a subtle form of communication. And I had an upstairs neighbor.

Out she’d go. Squeal. I’d go around and bring her back inside. Out she’d go again. Squeal. Around I’d go again.

This continued throughout the night, well into the morning. My dream of owning a pig was beginning to lose some of its charm.

🐷 The Great Pig Escape

At some point in the early morning hours, as I once again tried to bring Juicy around from the backyard and help her into the house, she tried to bite me. I jumped back. Then she got away.

Now I had a loose pig running down the street. It was about 3 a.m. Juicy began wandering into neighbors’ yards as I followed behind, desperately trying to catch her.

She was faster than I was. She was also apparently having a wonderful time. I was not.

I couldn’t get close enough to grab her, and I was starting to wonder exactly how I was going to explain the situation if one of my neighbors looked outside.

Hi! Sorry to wake you. Have you seen my pig?

And then I had an idea. Bliss.

🐕 Send in the Australian Shepherd

I went back home and brought Bliss outside. Bliss took one look at Juicy running down the street and immediately understood the assignment. She began herding Juicy back toward me, and it worked.

My Australian Shepherd accomplished in minutes what I’d been failing to do. Bliss herded Juicy back home.

I had never been more grateful to have a herding dog. By then, I had also reached another important conclusion: I was not the right foster home for Juicy.

❤️ Finding Juicy’s Happily Ever After

The next morning, operating on virtually no sleep, I started calling local petting zoos. I explained that I had a mini pig who needed a home. Then something remarkable happened. One of them said yes.

Even better, they already had another mini pig just like Juicy. I couldn’t believe my luck. I called Juicy’s owner to explain what had happened, and we agreed this sounded like a much better situation for her.

We met again at that PetCo and took Juicy to the petting zoo together. When we arrived, the other pig was there to welcome her. They looked at each other and squealed, as if they were long-lost friends. Even better, Juicy now had an appropriate place to live, with hay to burrow into, plenty of outdoor space to explore, shelter, and, most importantly, the company of another pig. Instead of wreaking havoc in my backyard, Juicy had a new job: making kids smile.

Watching her settle in, I knew we’d made the right decision. Juicy hadn’t been a bad houseguest. She was simply a pig being a pig, and I had been a dog person with absolutely no idea what living with a pig entailed.

Juicy had found her people. And her pig. As for me? I went home with Bliss and a newfound appreciation for dogs.

After one completely insane night of squealing, escaping, attempted biting, backyard adventures, and a middle-of-the-night Australian Shepherd rescue mission, Juicy had landed exactly where she belonged.

It felt like a miracle. She needed another pig. She needed people who understood pigs. She needed a home designed for pigs. What she did not need was me.

🐾 Dogs Are Enough

And I learned something, too. For years, I’d thought it would be fun to have a pig someday. I no longer want one.

Dogs are enough. Especially when one of them knows how to herd a runaway pig home at 3 a.m. Thanks, Bliss.

🐾 Know Someone Who Needs a Laugh?

If Juicy’s great escape made you smile, please restack this story or share it with another animal lover. In the comments, tell me: What’s the most unexpected animal you’ve ever brought home?

❤️ Join BlissDog

If you enjoyed this story, I’d love to have you join the pack at BlissDog, where I share stories about dogs and the wonderfully unpredictable moments that have shaped my life, including unforgettable nights like the one I spent with Juicy.

Subscribe and come along for the ride. Seven would also like you to know that your pledge helps keep his cookie jar well stocked. 🍪

Life is better with dogs. 🐾
Especially when your dog can herd a runaway pig home at 3 a.m.

This week’s Sit With Me follows my essay “Authors Beware,” which examines the flattering emails and offers that find their way into writers’ inboxes.

After one arrived from an especially prestigious organization and made me feel, for just a moment, like someone important had noticed my work, I had to ask myself: Why do these emails work?

Why Being Seen Matters

Sometimes it’s because they offer us something we deeply want: recognition. Someone noticed us. Someone thinks our work matters. Someone important finally sees what we’ve created.

There’s nothing foolish about wanting that. But there is a difference between being genuinely seen and being flattered because someone wants something from us.

What Comes After We Get It Wrong

And if you’ve ever fallen for one, as I have, there can be another feeling afterward.

Embarrassment.

How could I not have seen it? Why did I believe them? I should have known better.

For me, recognizing a mistake isn’t enough. We also need to forgive ourselves for making it. At the heart of this week’s ritual are two things: being seen and forgiving ourselves.

Not analyzing what happened. Not replaying all the warning signs we missed. And definitely not beating ourselves up for being human.

See Yourself Through Your Dog’s Eyes

Instead, we’re going to borrow our dogs’ eyes for a few minutes to see ourselves the way they do: as perfectly imperfect human beings who are still worthy of love. And then we’re going to see if we can offer ourselves what our dogs give us so freely.

Forgiveness.

If you’ve ever trusted someone you shouldn’t have, been fooled by something that sounded too good to be true, or simply made a mistake you wish you could take back, this ritual is for you.

Paid subscribers, grab your dog, a piece of paper, and a pen, and come sit with me. ❤️🐾

Read more

My inbox has been very busy since the launch of my newest book, Teaming Up with Therapy Dogs: Skills to Build Healing Partnerships. Some of it has been wonderful. I’ve heard from readers, podcasters, journalists, and people interested in therapy dog work. I’ve also heard from a surprising number of people who apparently think authors have a lot of money.

If you’re an author, I’ll give you a moment to stop laughing.

This week, though, I received an email that was different. The sender identified himself as the CEO of a prestigious university press. He said my new book had been brought to his attention and praised the way I approached the subject. He wanted to talk about my background, future projects, and ideas I might be exploring.

I won’t lie. It got my attention.

This wasn’t someone offering to improve my Amazon ranking or sell me a publicity package. This sounded like a legitimate publishing executive interested in my work.

There was just one problem. He was writing from a Gmail account.

Something didn’t feel right. The name was real. The title was real. The publisher was real. Even the contact information in the signature looked convincing. But why would the CEO of a major publishing house contact an author from Gmail? Before I answered, I checked.

On its website, the publisher specifically warns authors about scammers impersonating its staff members and says that legitimate editorial approaches come from its official company email domain.

The email was fake. And it was good. That’s what bothered me most.

The official logo for Oxford University Press was right on top. There were no misspellings or grammatical mistakes. No supposed prince was offering me $14 million. Nobody asked for my bank account. There wasn’t even a request for money. At least, not yet. The first request was simply to talk. I declined and forwarded the email directly to the Oxford University Press Office.

This isn’t the first time I’ve written about suspicious offers targeting writers. A few months ago, I shared some of the strange “Send Us Your Post!” messages I receive whenever I promote my work on social media. Those were relatively easy to spot. This one was different. It was sophisticated enough that, for a moment, I wanted to believe it.

I’ve Already Paid for This Lesson Once

I wish I could tell you I’ve always been this cautious. I’m an award-winning writer. I spent more than 25 years working in public relations and media. I know how publicity works.

And I still got taken.

Someone recently approached me about doing a story on me. There was a $100 charge involved, and I paid it. It turned out to be a scam.

I was furious with myself afterward. I kept thinking, I should have known better.

Now I look at that $100 differently. It was tuition. I’d rather have learned this lesson for $100 than $1,000 or $10,000.

And I learned something else from it. Smart people get scammed. Experienced people get scammed. Writers who have spent their entire careers dealing with the media get scammed.

These schemes work because they aren’t always aimed at our intelligence. They’re aimed at our hopes.

Why Authors Are Vulnerable to Publishing Scams

Authors are particularly vulnerable. Writing a book takes an enormous amount of time. Then you finally hold that book in your hands and discover that writing it was only part of the job. Now you have to help people find it.

So, imagine receiving an email saying someone important has noticed your work. A journalist wants to profile you. A producer is interested. A major publisher has discovered your book. Of course you want it to be true.

That’s exactly when we need to slow down. The emails I’ve received lately have taught me to look at the offer before I look at the compliment.

Who sent it? Does the email address match the organization? Can I independently verify the person? Are they offering editorial coverage or selling it? Are they asking me to click an unfamiliar link? And eventually, are they going to ask for money?

I’ve also learned that “sponsored editorial coverage” means I’m buying advertising. That’s perfectly legitimate when it’s disclosed honestly, but it isn’t the same thing as a journalist choosing to interview me. I’m much more interested in the second one.

Dogs Are Pretty Good at Sniffing Out Scams

Maybe I’ve spent too much time around dogs, but I keep thinking about how differently they approach unfamiliar situations.

Seven doesn’t care how impressive someone’s title is. Paige Turner doesn’t care how flattering the email sounds. Okay, neither one of them reads my email. But stay with me.

Dogs pay attention to what is actually happening in front of them. We humans have a tendency to override that little feeling that says, Something isn’t right.

We don’t want to seem rude. We don’t want to miss an opportunity. And sometimes we really, really want the story we’re being offered to be true.

I’m learning to listen to the hesitation.

How to Check an Author or Publishing Offer Before You Respond

I don’t want this experience to make me cynical. There are real journalists who want to interview authors. There are legitimate podcasts looking for guests. There are publishers searching for writers. I’ve had some wonderful opportunities. I just know to check now.

If someone contacts me claiming to represent a publication, publisher, producer, festival, or other organization, I independently verify the person's identity before sending money, signing anything, or sharing information. If I can’t verify it, I don’t proceed.

And if someone tells me I’ve been specially selected for an exciting opportunity and then sends me a menu of “participation packages,” I know I’m being sold something. I’m getting better at spotting those too.

As for that prestigious publisher? For a few minutes, I imagined that its CEO had discovered my book. That was fun.

Then I noticed the Gmail address. Seven probably would have figured it out faster. And Paige Turner would bite anyone who tried to scam me.

Know another writer who needs to see this? Please restack this post or share it with an author friend. The more we talk openly about these scams, the harder it becomes for them to work.

And if you’ve received one of these too, tell me about it in the comments. I have a feeling I’m not the only one with a story. 🐾

Sit With Me 🐾

There’s another side to this that has stayed with me. Why do these emails work? Sometimes it’s because they offer us something we deeply want: recognition. Someone noticed us. Someone thinks our work matters. Someone important finally sees what we’ve created.

There’s nothing foolish about wanting that. But maybe we can learn to notice the difference between being seen and being flattered because someone wants something from us.

That’s something I’m thinking about a lot lately, far beyond suspicious emails. In Sit With Me, my paid series of guided reflections and meditations, Seven, Paige Turner, and I spend some quiet time exploring the things that can be harder to hear when the rest of the world is making noise.

Come sit with us. No impressive title required. ❤️

Live is better with dogs.
Seven and Paige Turner are living proof.🐾

I learned this lesson the hard way. Once you experience that kind of consistency (or inconsistency), it changes how you view connection.

This isn’t about choosing dogs over people (although I prefer spending most of my time with my dogs). It’s about understanding something we often overlook.

Dogs have played such an important role in my life, especially the years I spent dating, that I wrote an entire book about it. I’m Not Single, I Have a Dog: Dating Tales from the Bark Side tells the sometimes funny, sometimes painful, and often unexpected stories of dating with a dog by my side. And I’m excited to share that the audiobook is now available on Audible.

Blondie, in particular, accompanied me on dates and taught me a few things about men that I might have taken much longer to figure out on my own. More about her in a minute.

But first, what is it about dogs that can make a relationship with them feel so remarkably steady?

What Dogs Give That Relationships Don’t

Consistency

Dogs don’t play games. They don’t pull away when you’re having a tough day. They don’t become distant. They don’t go quiet. They don’t leave you wondering where you stand.

They’re there. The same way. Every day. And that kind of reliability allows you to settle. There’s nothing you need to be in order to be with a dog. You don’t have to:

• explain yourself

• adjust your tone

• manage someone else’s reaction

You can simply be exactly who you are right now. And that’s enough.

Presence

Dogs don’t split their attention. They’re not halfway in, halfway out. Not distracted. Not elsewhere. When they’re with you, they’re fully with you. Completely.

And in a world where attention is constantly pulled in all directions, that kind of presence is rare.

Emotional Safety

With a dog, you don’t brace yourself. You don’t walk on eggshells. You don’t have to prepare for a reaction. No need to rehearse what you’re going to say. And most importantly, you don’t need to worry about being misunderstood. There’s a kind of safety in that—something quiet, subtle—allowing your body to soften without even noticing.

No Agenda

Dogs don’t require anything from you except care and connection. They’re not trying to:

• change you

• fix you

• get something from you emotionally

They’re just… with you.

I didn’t fully understand this when I was younger. I just knew I felt different around my dogs. More settled. More myself.

Back then, I was dating, hoping to find Mr. Right and start a family. And like many single people, I was trying to figure out what worked and what didn’t. So, I started bringing my dog Blondie along with me. Not as a strategy. Just because having her by my side made everything easier. She relieved my stress. She boosted my confidence. She kept me grounded in a way nothing else could. And it quickly became clear how important that was.

One man showed up looking like he had stepped out of GQ magazine. Everything about him seemed perfect—until he quickly patted Blondie and then looked down at the fur in the air.

“Does she shed like that all the time?” he asked.

Next.

Another date ended in a way I never could have predicted. We sat talking at my favorite restaurant on Melrose, Blondie at my feet, when he began telling me about his failed marriage, his new baby daughter, his life.

Something shifted during that conversation. As soon as we ordered, he excused himself from the table. When he returned, he told me he had called his wife. They were getting back together. He was going home to his family.

At the time, those moments felt frustrating, confusing… even a little absurd. But now I see something different. Blondie wasn’t just with me. She was my rock. I wasn’t performing. I wasn’t trying to be what someone else wanted. I was simply myself, with my dog beside me. And that changed everything. I can see that clearly now.

There were seasons in my life where my dogs were the steadiest presence I had. Not instead of everything else. But underneath it.

And I think more women are beginning to realize this. Not as a rejection of relationships, but as an understanding of what genuine connection truly feels like. Because once you experience:

• consistency

• presence

• emotional safety

You don’t unlearn that. You carry it with you into everything. And maybe that’s part of what’s changing.

Women aren’t just asking, “Do I want to be in a relationship?” They’re asking, “Does this feel as reliable, safe, and real as what I already know is possible?”

If this resonated with you, please Restack it so more women who’ve found this kind of connection with their dogs can join the conversation. 🐾❤️

Dogs don’t replace people. But they set a standard. If you’ve ever experienced that feeling that comes from simply sitting beside your dog, with no words and no effort, just being together, that’s something I’ve been exploring through Sit With Me. A place to slow down. To settle. To reconnect—with your dog beside you. You and your dog are always welcome there, single or coupled.

BlissDog by Susan Hartzler is a reader-supported publication exploring the human–animal bond. Seven would like it noted that any support helps keep his treat jar properly stocked.

Life is better with dogs.
Seven and Paige Turner are living proof. 🐾

In my latest BlissDog, My Dogs Aren’t My Children. They Are My Family, I wrote about something I’ve felt for a long time. Seven and Paige Turner aren’t substitutes for children or for human relationships. They are something entirely their own. They are my family.

Family can be the one who makes a house feel like home. The one who gives shape to your days. The one whose presence changes the way you move through the world.

And that made me think about something else. What does it actually feel like to belong?

Dogs may understand that better than we do. They don’t know anything about family trees. They don’t care about last names or whether people are related by blood. Their sense of family is built through something much more immediate: familiarity, safety, shared routines and the people who make their world feel like home.

For this Sit With Me, we’re going to do something a little different. We’re going for a walk. Not a power walk. Not a walk where you’re checking your phone, counting steps or thinking about everything you need to do when you get home.

This walk has nowhere important to get to. It’s simply time with your dog.

A Little Note Before We Walk 🐾

Sit With Me is something I create especially for my paid subscribers, and I want you to know how much I appreciate every one of you. Your subscriptions make it possible for me to keep writing BlissDog, creating these meditations, and sharing the stories that mean so much to me.

And, of course, you help keep Seven’s treat jar full. He considers this an extremely important contribution to the arts. 😂🐾

Thank you for supporting my work and for being part of this little community we’ve created around something we all understand: life is better with dogs.

Ready? Let’s go for a walk.

Read more

There was a time when dogs slept outside. They ate whatever was left over after dinner. They rarely accompanied their humans on vacations. Few people celebrated their birthdays or worried about whether a hotel welcomed pets because they stayed home.

Today, dogs sleep on our beds. They receive presents from Santa (as long as they’ve been good). They appear in family Christmas cards and as part of wedding parties. I’ve even seen some doggie weddings online.

Baldwin, My Husband?

I probably shouldn’t laugh too hard at the doggie weddings. Years ago, a psychic told me that Baldwin, my first therapy dog, and I had been husband and wife in a former life. I told our agility coach about it, and from then on she always referred to Baldwin as “my husband.” I have no idea whether the psychic was right, of course, but anyone who knew Baldwin and me could tell you we certainly had the old-married-couple part down.

Many of us rearrange our work schedules, vacations, and even where we choose to live because of them. Heck, I rearranged my entire life so I could work from home and be with mine 24/7.

Some people roll their eyes and call it “pet humanization.” I don’t think that’s what’s happening at all.

I think we’re finally recognizing something we’ve known all along. Dogs have always been family.

What’s Changed?

Our relationship with dogs has changed dramatically over the past several decades, but not because dogs have changed. We have.

Families look different than they once did. More people live alone. Others marry later or choose not to have children. Many adults are caring for aging parents while navigating careers, divorce, or loneliness.

Into that changing landscape walks a dog. Not to replace a spouse. Not to replace a child. Not to replace another human being. But to become something uniquely their own. A member of the family.

Research continues to show that the human-animal bond is associated with reduced stress, increased social connection, and improvements in emotional well-being, even as scientists continue to study exactly how those benefits occur.

As an author and longtime therapy dog volunteer, I’ve seen those benefits unfold one visit at a time. I’ve watched withdrawn patients begin talking because a dog walked into the room. I’ve seen veterans soften. Children smile. Patients connect through shared memories of dogs they’ve loved.

That’s not because people think dogs are human. It’s because dogs offer something profoundly human:

Connection.

Family Doesn’t Mean Human

Here’s where I think we sometimes get confused. Calling a dog “family” doesn’t mean treating them like a person.

Dogs don’t need designer wardrobes. They don’t need birthday cakes every year (although I have been known to throw a doggie party every now and then). They don’t need us to project every human emotion onto them.

What they do need is even more important. To be understood as dogs. To sniff. To explore. To communicate in canine ways. To rest. To have choices. To feel safe. Maybe that’s yet another gift we can give to our pets, especially those we consider family: loving them for who they are, rather than asking them to become more like us.

Ironically, sometimes loving dogs like family means respecting the fact that they aren’t human at all.

Anthropomorphism—attributing human thoughts, emotions, or motivations to dogs—can sometimes cause us to misunderstand what they actually need. Reviews of the research suggest that while close emotional bonds are valuable, misunderstanding canine behavior can unintentionally affect welfare.

The Real Gift Dogs Give Us

I don’t call Seven and Paige Turner my children. But I absolutely call them family.

Family isn’t defined by DNA. It’s defined by love. By showing up. By comforting one another during difficult days. By making a house feel like home. By quietly changing who we become. By giving me purpose and keeping me grounded in the rhythms of everyday life.

The beautiful irony is that while people sometimes worry we’ve become too attached to our furry family members, dogs continue doing exactly what they’ve always done.

Offering companionship. Teaching forgiveness. Helping strangers become friends. Reminding us to notice the present moment.

Perhaps we aren’t loving dogs too much. Perhaps we’re finally recognizing the extraordinary relationship we’ve always shared with them.

And maybe the question isn’t whether dogs have become family. Maybe it’s why it took us so long to admit they already were.

❤️ If This Story Spoke to Your Heart...

If this essay resonated with you, I’d be so grateful if you would Restack it. Every Restack helps more dog lovers discover BlissDog and become part of this growing community.

🐾 Join the Pack

Follow BlissDog for weekly stories about the remarkable bond we share with our dogs—stories of healing, hope, therapy dogs, laughter, and the everyday moments that remind us life is better with them.

🌊 Sit With Me: The Feeling of Belonging

What makes a place feel like home? And have you ever wondered if you are part of what makes home feel like home to your dog?

In my next Sit With Me, we’re doing something a little different. We’re going to meditate while walking our dogs. The Feeling of Belonging is a guided walking meditation about family, connection, and the everyday routines that tell both us and our dogs: You belong here.

Paid subscribers can walk along with me, Seven and Paige Turner, then return home for a simple five-minute ritual and journaling prompts designed to carry that feeling of belonging with you.

🐾 Come take a walk with us.

Thank you for reading—and for being part of this Pack.

🐾 Life is better with dogs.
Seven and Paige Turner are proof.

Resources

If you’d like to explore more about the human-animal bond, these are excellent places to start:

• National Institutes of Health: The Power of Pets

• American Veterinary Medical Association (AVMA)

• American Animal Hospital Association (AAHA) Human-Animal Bond resources

My last Sit With Me dealt with the loneliness epidemic. To combat that issue, I shared The Leash Ritual, an invitation to clip on your dog’s leash, walk out the door, and become available to connection.

But it turns out you don’t even have to leave home to find your pack.

🐾 Finding Connection Without Leaving Home

My new friend Andrew Darlow has created a lovely way to do exactly that with his Pet Story Parties™, online gatherings where animal lovers come together to share stories about the pets who have made a difference in their lives.

The concept is wonderfully simple. Andrew brings people together on Zoom and invites them to share photographs, memories, funny moments, and meaningful experiences with their pets.

At one recent party, a couple talked about the rescue dog who chose them when they arrived at the shelter. Others shared the kinds of funny, touching, and sometimes bittersweet memories that pet lovers immediately understand.

Some stories bring laughter. Others bring tears. But underneath all of them is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately: connection. Andrew’s parties reminded me that the door doesn’t always have to be a literal one.

For someone who is a caregiver, grieving, dealing with health or mobility issues, or simply not ready to walk into a room (or dog park) full of strangers, an online gathering can offer another way to reach out.

And perhaps that’s why Andrew’s idea resonated with me so much. There are people in my life I never would have known if it weren’t for Seven and Paige Turner.

🐾 How Dogs Help Us Make Friends

When I stop and think about it, some of the most meaningful relationships I’ve built over the years arrived because of dogs.

Therapy dog handlers. Hospital staff. Patients. Neighbors. BlissDog readers. Fellow authors. Trainers. Volunteers.

Dogs have an extraordinary way of dissolving the barriers between strangers.

Sometimes they do it at a dog park. Sometimes on a neighborhood walk. And now, sometimes they can do it through a computer screen.

Either way, it often begins with something very simple:

“What kind of dog is that?”

We’ve all asked it or answered it, and somehow it almost always leads to something more. From there, the conversation practically writes itself. How old are they? Where did you find them? What’s their funniest habit?

Before long, we’re talking about much bigger things. Our families. Our losses. Our dreams. Our fears.

Dogs have an extraordinary way of helping us skip the small talk. Which is fine with me.

❤️ Why Dogs Make Human Connection Easier

Maybe it’s because when someone introduces you to their dog, they’re also introducing you to a piece of their heart.

That’s what I find so appealing about Andrew’s Pet Story Parties.

The people attending already have something important in common. They understand what it’s like to organize your day around feeding schedules, laugh at something ridiculous your dog did, and recognize that losing an animal can hurt every bit as much as losing a human you love.

You don’t have to come up with clever small talk. You already have something to talk about: your pet.

And as Andrew’s gatherings demonstrate, a story about an animal can quickly become a story about a person.

🌎 Other Ways Dog and Pet Lovers Can Connect Online

Andrew’s storytelling gatherings have their own special format, but I started wondering what else was available for someone who loves animals and wants to feel a little less alone.

I found several options worth knowing about.

🐶 Meet My Paws is a global online community specifically for dogs and their people. Members can create profiles, meet other dog lovers, share advice, and potentially turn online connections into real-world friendships. You can search nearby or connect with dog people farther away.

❤️ Losing Your Pack Member

Loneliness can feel particularly acute after losing an animal because you’re not only missing someone you loved. You’re also missing the routines and companionship that were part of every day.

Association for Pet Loss and Bereavement online chat room offers free scheduled live group chats led by trained volunteer Pet Loss Grief Specialists. There are sessions for people grieving a companion animal as well as a monthly anticipatory-grief session for those facing an impending loss.

Lap of Love Pet Loss Support offers free virtual pet-loss support groups via Zoom several times throughout the week. The organization also offers smaller specialty groups, courses, and individual support.

Best Friends pet-loss resources and community provide another option, particularly for people grieving an animal. Best Friends encourages people to share photographs and stories about their pets and connect with others who understand the depth of the human-animal bond.

These aren’t all the same as Andrew’s Pet Story Parties. Some are social communities, while others are specifically designed to support people experiencing pet loss.

But they have something important in common: They give animal lovers another way to find one another.

📖 The Stories Our Dogs Give Us

That same spirit shines through Andrew’s wonderful book, Biscuit for Your Thoughts?: Philosophy According to Dogs.

With warmth, humor, and genuine insight, he beautifully captures the stories, memories, and life lessons our pets leave behind. I enjoyed it so much that it inspired me to write a blog post about it, and I have a feeling many of you will enjoy it as much as I did.

The book pairs dog photographs with canine-inspired bits of wisdom about living a good life. Published in 2014, I’m not at all surprised to hear it received a Silver Foreword INDIES award in the Pets category.

Pet Story Parties take the idea of sharing what dogs teach us one step further. Instead of simply reading someone else’s pet story, you get to tell your own and hear theirs.

Maybe that’s part of what makes telling stories about our animals so powerful.

I feel that with every BlissDog post I write. When I tell you a story about Seven or Paige Turner, I’m rarely telling you only about a dog.

I’m telling you something about myself, too.

❤️ Finding Your Pack, Wherever You Are

Looking around my own life, I realize that many of the friendships I treasure have paw prints somewhere near the beginning of the story.

If you’re feeling a little disconnected yourself, perhaps this is your invitation to reach out in whatever way feels manageable.

Take the walk. Say hello at the dog park. Join Andrew for a Pet Story Party. Try an online dog community. And if you’re grieving an animal, consider spending some time with people who understand why that loss hurts so much.

Sometimes the easiest place to begin is with the one thing you already know you have in common: You love dogs.

Finding your pack doesn’t always require leaving home. Sometimes it simply requires finding the people who speak your language.

And maybe that’s one more gift our dogs give us. They don’t just become part of our lives. Sometimes they introduce us to people who become part of them, too.

❤️ Enjoyed This Story?

If this essay made you think of someone your dog introduced into your life, I’d be so grateful if you would Restack it so more dog lovers can find it.

And I’d love to hear about that person in the comments. Who is someone you never would have met without your dog?

If you’re new to BlissDog, I hope you’ll follow along for more stories about dogs, healing, and the extraordinary ways our canine companions make our lives richer, often in ways we never expect.

🐾 Life is better with dogs.
Seven and Paige Turner are proof.

There is something I know about loneliness that I wish more people would talk about. When you’re lonely, the last thing you feel like doing is being around other people.

You tell yourself you’ll go out next week. Or when you’re in a better mood. Or after you’ve caught up on work. Or when you have more energy.

The problem is that loneliness has a way of feeding itself. The longer we stay home, the harder it becomes to leave. The harder it is to leave, the lonelier we feel. It’s a cycle that can quietly shrink our world.

Dogs, thankfully, know nothing about this cycle. They simply wake each morning and think, Let’s see what today brings. I think we could borrow a little of that wisdom.

🐾 How Dogs Can Help Us Feel Less Alone

I see this play out at the dog park all the time. You can arrive knowing no one, but your dog doesn’t care. He sniffs another dog. Someone asks his name. You learn their dog’s name. The next time you see each other, you wave. Eventually, you start talking. Before you know it, the person who was once a stranger is someone you’re happy to see.

❤️ What Seven Has Taught Me About Connection

Seven has never met the “right” person to talk to. He simply assumes almost everyone is kind until proven otherwise.

If someone smiles, he wiggles his Aussie butt. If a child asks to pet him, he leans in as though this is the best part of his day.

And if another dog appears, he lights up, especially if it’s Finn, the love of his life. Finn is a handsome younger Black Lab (yes, Seven is bisexual) and, apparently, the best personal trainer I could ask for. Seven will happily follow him around the dog park far longer than he’d ever agree to exercise with me.

Seven doesn’t wonder whether he should go say hello. He doesn’t worry about whether Finn is in the mood to see him. He certainly doesn’t stand across the park, wondering if he looks needy. He just goes.

And while Seven is busy following Finn, Paige Turner races around with her black-and-white pittie friend, Channel. That friendship feels especially sweet to me because Paige was attacked by a pit bull when she was young. Seeing her happily play with Channel is no small thing.

Meanwhile, I’m chatting with the people who love their dogs as much as I love mine (if that’s even possible). We may have different backgrounds, ages, and lives, but we know each other’s dogs. We notice when someone hasn’t been around for a while. We ask how a dog is doing. We laugh at the same ridiculous things our dogs do. The dogs give us a reason to begin.

That’s how it happens at the dog park. We come for our dogs, but somewhere along the way, they help us find our pack.

The whole scene reminds me how much of adulthood is spent protecting ourselves from disappointment. Dogs certainly experience disappointment, but they don’t build their lives around avoiding it. They keep reaching for connection anyway. There is something quietly brave about that.

And that could be one of their greatest gifts. Dogs make connection feel less complicated.

You don’t need a dog park or a crowd of people to experience it, either. Sometimes all it takes is walking out the front door together.

🌿 Today’s Sit With Me: The Leash Ritual

I want to invite you to try something I call The Leash Ritual. It isn’t about making friends. It isn’t about networking. It isn’t even about having a conversation. It’s about being open for connection.

BlissDog pack members, Seven and I have something special waiting for you below. If you haven’t joined the pack yet, we’d love to have you. Your support makes it possible for me to keep creating these Sit With Me rituals and to share the stories behind them. Seven insists that I also disclose that paid subscriptions contribute to a very important cause: keeping his treat jar adequately stocked. 🐾🦴❤️

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There is a new trend making its way across social media. Instead of documenting busy social calendars, influencers are filming themselves spending weekends alone. They cook beautiful dinners for one. Curl up with a book. Wander through bookstores. Sip coffee alone in cafés. The captions often celebrate “protecting my peace” or “choosing myself.” I understand why it resonates.

For generations, being alone carried an unfair stigma. People assumed that if you weren’t surrounded by friends or in a relationship, something must be wrong. It’s healthy that we’re challenging that idea. Learning to enjoy your own company is a gift.

But lately I’ve noticed something that gives me pause. We’re beginning to romanticize loneliness itself.

When Being Alone Becomes Loneliness

Those are not the same thing. There is a profound difference between solitude and loneliness. Solitude is something we choose. Loneliness is something we feel.

One restores us. The other quietly erodes us.

The Health Effects of Chronic Loneliness

Researchers continue to find that chronic loneliness affects far more than our emotions. It has been linked to increased risks of depression, anxiety, cardiovascular disease, cognitive decline, and even earlier mortality. Human beings are wired for connection, even if that connection looks different for each of us.

Social Media Can Make Loneliness Look Beautiful

And yet social media often edits loneliness into something beautiful. Aesthetic. Even aspirational.

The carefully staged photos rarely show the tears after everyone else has gone home. The empty chair at dinner. The phone that never rings. The birthday celebrated quietly. Or the ache of wondering whether anyone would notice if you disappeared for a few days.

Those moments aren’t aesthetic. They’re human.

Living Alone Doesn’t Mean Being Lonely

I’ve spent much of my adult life living alone. There have been seasons when solitude felt nourishing. There have also been seasons when loneliness wrapped itself around me so completely that I didn’t recognize it until much later.

The difference wasn’t whether I was by myself. The difference was whether I still felt connected.

When Independence Gets in the Way

I felt that difference just last week. I needed eye surgery, and because I wouldn’t be able to drive myself home afterward, I had to figure out who could take me to UCLA and bring me back.

You would think asking a friend for a ride to the hospital would be simple. For me, it wasn’t.

At first, I actually went into a little denial. Maybe I could drive myself. Maybe I could somehow make it work without asking anyone. Of course I couldn’t. It was my eyes, for goodness sake. And Seven couldn’t drive me, although he is smart enough to pass any driving test. He is an intelligent Australian Shepherd, after all.

What I was really trying to avoid wasn’t the inconvenience of finding a ride. It was needing someone. Being independent has been such an important part of my life that asking for help felt surprisingly uncomfortable. I’m much better at being the person who shows up than the person who says, I need you to show up for me.

Thankfully, my best friend did. She went way out of her way and picked me up, took me to my surgery, waited for me, and made sure I got home safely. I can’t tell you how grateful I was (and still am).

And it reminded me of something I sometimes forget. I may live alone, but I am not lonely.

I’m incredibly fortunate to have friends who have been in my life since grammar school. We’ve grown up together, watched our lives take turns none of us could have predicted, and somehow, we’re still here.

They are my chosen family members…my pack. Maybe that’s another difference between solitude and loneliness.

Connection Doesn’t Require a Crowd

Connection doesn’t require sharing a house with someone, getting married, or having a huge circle of friends. Sometimes it’s one meaningful conversation. A neighbor who knows your name. Someone who asks how you’re doing and actually waits for the answer. A BFF who offers to drive you to surgery. And sometimes, it’s simply a dog resting beside you, reminding you that you matter to at least one living being in the world.

The harder part, at least for me, is making the call. I’m learning that independence doesn’t have to mean never needing anyone.

Maybe real independence is knowing when you can handle something yourself and when it’s okay to ask for help. And maybe part of that is recognizing how lucky you are to have people who will show up when you do.

What Dogs Teach Us About Connection

Dogs don’t judge us for living alone. They don’t measure our worth by the size of our social circle. But I do think they understand something we’ve forgotten.

They seek connection every single day. With us. With other dogs. With the world around them. Maybe there’s a lesson in that for us. Independence is healthy. Isolation isn’t.

There is strength in learning to enjoy your own company. There is also courage in admitting that there are times when you simply need another person.

Sometimes Loneliness Is a Signal

Perhaps loneliness isn’t something to romanticize. Perhaps it’s something to listen to. Loneliness isn’t telling us we’re broken. It’s simply reminding us that we were made for connection…just like our dogs.

If This Spoke to You

If you know someone who lives alone, treasures their independence, or sometimes has a hard time asking for help, please restack or share this with them.

And if you’ve built your own chosen family, I’d love to hear about them in the comments. Who are the people, or dogs, who remind you that living alone doesn’t have to mean being lonely?

🐾 Coming Next: Sit With Me, A Ritual for Lonely Days

Loneliness doesn’t always disappear because someone tells us to “get out more.” In my next Sit With Me, I’ll share one of the simplest rituals I’ve found for gently reconnecting with the world, inspired by the wisdom of dogs like Paige Turner who never seem to meet a stranger.

Life is better with dogs.
Seven and Paige Turner are living proof. 🐾

Something has been quietly shifting. More women are choosing not to get married. More are living alone. And more are building lives that look very different than what used to be expected.

And in many of those lives, there’s a dog. This isn’t just a feeling.

• Pet ownership has steadily risen in the U.S., with about 66% of households now owning a pet

• Dogs are the most common, with tens of millions of households sharing their lives with one

• And pet ownership among single adults—especially women—has increased significantly over time

At the same time, more women are delaying or opting out of marriage altogether. No single study says, “women are choosing dogs over marriage.” But when you look at the patterns together, something becomes clear:

👩‍🦰 👩‍🦱 👩‍🦳 👩‍🦲 👩🏻 👩🏼 👩🏽 👩🏾 👩🏿 Women are building lives on their own terms

🐶 🐕 🐕‍🦺 🦮 🐩 🐺 🐾 🦴 🐕🩺 🦴💕🐾 And dogs are often part of that life

There’s also research showing something else that matters here. Women are slightly more likely to own pets than men. And many people describe their pets as deeply meaningful—sometimes as important as family

This isn’t casual companionship. It’s connection.

Statistics Are Only Part of the Story

Looking back now, in my late 60s, I can see something I didn’t fully understand at the time. I didn’t consciously decide:

“I’m going to build a life around dogs instead of marriage.”

It didn’t feel like a choice. My life just—unfolded that way.

There were moments when people questioned it. My family thought I was crazy to center my life around dogs. At one point, even a psychiatrist questioned my ideas about working with them.

But I had already seen something most people hadn’t. And once you see it, you don’t turn away from it.

What I See Now

I didn’t miss out on anything. I built a life. A full one. A meaningful one. And my dogs were at the center of it.

There’s a quiet assumption in our culture that a successful life follows a certain path:

Marriage – Children - Family

But there are other ways to live. And more women are choosing them.

If you love your dog the way I do, and you want to spend your life close to that connection, there are more opportunities than ever. People are building real careers in:

• dog training

• behavior and enrichment

• therapy dog work

• pet photography

• writing and content creation

• dog products and services

• wellness and canine fitness

These are not small, fringe paths. The pet industry is one of the strongest and fastest-growing markets out there—bringing in well over $100 billion annually in the U.S. alone.

This isn’t a fallback life. It’s a real one. I always tell parents of kids who are interested in my dogs that a friend of mine built a dog training business earning over $300,000 a year.

And then there’s the part that’s harder to measure.

The Everyday Life With Dogs

The dog who waits for you. The rhythm of walks. The structure of mutual care. The presence that doesn’t waver. I’ve lived a life where my dogs were not just companions. They were (and are) partners, anchors, constants.

Not instead of everything else. But underneath it. Holding it together.

So when I hear people say:

“My dog is the reason I get up in the morning.”

I don’t hear something lacking. I hear something real. Because sometimes, a life doesn’t need to look the way you thought it would to be meaningful.

Sometimes it looks like a home, a dog, a rhythm, a life you built yourself surrounded by unconditional love.

And sometimes…that’s more than enough.

If these reflections resonate with you, you might also enjoy my audiobook, I’m Not Single, I Have a Dog: Dating Tales From the Bark Side. It’s my own funny, heartfelt story about the unexpected ways my dogs have shaped my life—a reminder that love comes in many forms. Whether you’re walking your own dog, commuting, or simply relaxing at home, I hope it feels like we’re sharing the journey together.

And if you’ve ever felt the quiet steadiness that comes from simply being with your dog—no expectations, no roles, just presence—that’s something I explore more deeply here on BlissDog. Paid members of the pack also have access to Sit With Me, a series of guided meditations and rituals you can do with your dog. You’re always welcome here.

BlissDog by Susan Hartzler is a reader-supported publication exploring the human-animal bond. Seven would also like it noted that any support helps keep his treat jar properly stocked.

Life is better with dogs.
Seven and Paige Turner are living proof. 🐾

This week’s essay asked a question many of us have quietly wondered:

“What if the world is changing faster than we can keep up?”

It’s true—many of us carry this fear because our world feels less predictable than it once did. Wildfires burn longer. Floods seem like a daily occurrence. Storms are growing stronger. Places that rarely worried about tornadoes now do. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg…

Every time we turn on the news, we’re reminded that the future feels uncertain. Even when we’re safe at home, our nervous systems absorb those messages. It’s no wonder so many of us are wondering and worrying what tomorrow will bring.

Dogs, however, have a different way of meeting uncertainty.

Our dogs don’t ignore storms. They hear thunder, notice the wind, and sense our tension. But once the danger has passed, they return to what is right in front of them. The warmth of the sun. The scent of the ocean. The sound of our voice.

We’ll borrow that wisdom in a special Sit With Me ritual for paid members of the pack. Ready?

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The other day, I found myself asking a question I never thought I would ask.

How much longer will humans even be on Earth?

With floods washing away entire communities, wildfires burning longer and hotter, hurricanes growing stronger, and tornadoes touching down in places like New York, it can feel as though the world is coming apart. Every time I open the news, there seems to be another reminder that our climate is changing.

When Climate Anxiety Feels Personal

I’ll admit it. Part of me wonders if we’re watching the beginning of the end. Not just for humanity. For me. For Seven. For Paige Turner. For the quiet little life we’ve built together.

I know I’m not the only one asking these questions. Maybe you’ve wondered them, too.

The scientific answer is actually reassuring. While climate change is creating enormous challenges, scientists do not believe humanity is nearing extinction. We are facing a world that will require us to adapt in ways we’ve never experienced before, but not one that is suddenly disappearing beneath our feet.

Coping With Climate Anxiety One Day at a Time

Facts don’t always quiet fear. Fear speaks a different language.

As I sat with that feeling, I realized something surprising. I wasn’t only grieving what might happen decades from now. I was grieving the simple truth that nothing I love lasts forever.

Not my dogs. Not the people I love. Not even the places that feel like home. Climate change had simply given that old fear a new face.

Lessons Dogs Can Teach Us About Resilience

And then I looked over at Seven. He wasn’t worrying about next year’s wildfire season. He wasn’t wondering whether Southern California will be hotter in ten years. He wasn’t thinking about sea levels, insurance premiums, or the latest weather report.

He was lying on the floor, completely content because I happened to be in the same room.

That’s what dogs do so beautifully. They remind us that life has always been uncertain. Tomorrow has never been promised.

The difference is that dogs don’t waste today trying to solve tomorrow. They still chase the ball. They still notice the breeze. They still ask for another walk. They still greet the people they love as though nothing could possibly be more important.

The Healing Wisdom of Dogs

Sometimes I think that’s why they calm our nervous systems so effortlessly. They don’t deny reality. They simply refuse to abandon the present.

That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t prepare. We should.

I’ve spent years writing about emergency preparedness for a nonprofit. Preparing our homes, having evacuation plans, and helping our neighbors are acts of responsibility. We don’t prepare because we expect the worst every day.

We prepare so we can live more peacefully the other 364. Maybe that’s true emotionally, too.

Perhaps we don’t need certainty to feel safe. Perhaps we need enough trust to stay here, in this moment, with the ones we love.

How to Find Hope During Uncertain Times

As I thought about all of this, another realization surfaced. I’ve spent the last few years writing books. I’ve built BlissDog. I’ve worked with therapy dogs in hospitals, schools, and with those with special needs.

None of those things would exist if I truly believed there was no future worth investing in.

Every story we write...

Every tree we plant...

Every dog we rescue...

Every neighbor we help...

Every hand we hold...

Every act of kindness says the same thing: I believe tomorrow is worth caring about.

Maybe hope isn’t the absence of fear. Maybe hope is continuing to love anyway. Seven doesn’t know what the world will look like twenty years from now. Neither do I. But I know what he would tell me if he could.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here.”

“Paige Turner is here.”

“The ocean is still waiting.”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

And maybe, just for today, that’s enough.

If this essay spoke to something you’ve been carrying, I’d be so grateful if you would restack it so more people can find it. You never know who may need this reminder today.

If you’re new here, I hope you’ll follow BlissDog and join our growing community of people who believe life is simply better with dogs.

And if these essays have become a meaningful part of your week, please consider becoming a paid member of the pack. Your support helps me continue writing stories about dogs, healing, grief, resilience, and the extraordinary ways our canine companions teach us how to live.

🐾 Coming soon for my paid members of the Pack: this week’s Sit With Me practice is a gentle grounding ritual inspired by our dogs. Together we’ll learn how to quiet climate anxiety, reconnect with the present moment, and discover why our dogs may be the best mindfulness teachers we’ve ever had. I hope you’ll join me. 💙

Thank you for reading, for being here, and for walking this journey with me. 🐾

Life is better with dogs.
Seven and Paige Truner are proof.🐾

Most of us already know the rule. Never leave a dog in a parked car. Not for “just a minute.” Not with the windows cracked. Not even if you’re only running in to grab one thing. Yet every summer, dogs still die this way.

Recently, a professional dog trainer was sentenced to nearly 12 years in prison after dozens of dogs died after being left in a hot transport van—an unimaginable tragedy that shocked dog lovers across the country. The case is heartbreaking, but it also serves as a powerful reminder that heat can become deadly far sooner than many people realize.

The good news? Most of us would never intentionally put our dogs in that situation. But here’s a question many dog owners haven’t considered:

What should you do if you see someone else’s dog trapped inside a hot car?

Cars Heat Up Much Faster Than You Think

Even on a pleasant 70°F day, the temperature inside a parked vehicle can rise by 20°F or more within minutes. On an 80°F day, the interior can quickly exceed 100°F—even with the windows cracked.

Dogs don’t cool themselves the way we do. They primarily rely on panting, which becomes less effective as temperatures and humidity rise. Once a dog’s body temperature rises high enough, heatstroke can develop rapidly, causing organ damage, brain injury, and death.

There is no “safe” amount of time to leave a dog unattended in a parked car.

What Should You Do If You See a Dog in a Hot Car?

It’s easy to panic. I know I did recently when I spotted a dog sitting in a car with all the windows up at my local farmers market. The dog showed no signs of distress, but I immediately asked the market manager what to do. He didn’t know. In fact, no one seemed to know. Thankfully, the dog was in a Tesla with Dog Mode activated and was perfectly safe. The experience reminded me how important it is to know what to look for—and what steps to take—before acting. I was only moments away from breaking a window.

Here’s a better plan.

1. Check the dog’s condition.

Look for signs of heat distress:

• Excessive panting

• Heavy drooling

• Weakness

• Vomiting

• Collapse

• Unresponsiveness

2. Try to locate the owner immediately.

If you’re at a shopping center, grocery store, or restaurant, ask management to page the owner. Sometimes those few minutes make all the difference.

3. Call for help.

If the owner doesn’t appear—or if the dog already seems distressed—call local law enforcement, animal control, or 911 if the situation appears life-threatening. Don’t wait until the dog collapses.

Should You Break the Window?

This is where many people become unsure. The answer depends on where you live. Some states have Good Samaritan laws that protect people who rescue animals in imminent danger. Others do not.

Before breaking a window, call emergency responders whenever possible. They can advise you based on your local laws and dispatch help quickly. If you believe the dog’s life is in immediate danger, document the situation by taking photos of the vehicle, license plate, and the dog’s condition while waiting for instructions.

What About Tesla’s Dog Mode?

You may see newer vehicles displaying a message that the air conditioning is running. While systems like Tesla’s Dog Mode can help maintain interior temperatures, technology isn’t foolproof. Batteries can fail. Systems can malfunction.

If you see a dog alone in any vehicle, don’t judge the situation based solely on the car. Look at the dog’s condition. If something seems wrong, don’t hesitate to call for assistance.

Prevention Is Always Better Than Rescue

The safest place for your dog on a warm day is at home. If errands are on the agenda, leave them where they’re cool and comfortable—or bring another adult who can stay with them while the car remains running with the air conditioning on.

No errand is worth risking a dog’s life.

One Last Thought

Every summer, someone says, “I was only going to be gone for a minute.”

Unfortunately, sometimes that’s all it takes. And if you ever find yourself walking through a parking lot and notice a dog alone inside a hot car, remember this—your phone call could save a life.

❤️ If This Story Could Help Save a Dog...

If this article reminded you of something important—or taught you something you didn’t know—would you consider Restacking it?

Every Restack helps these life-saving reminders reach more dog lovers. You never know whose share might prevent a tragedy or help someone know exactly what to do when they see a dog in danger.

🐾 Join the Pack

If you’re new to BlissDog, I’d love to welcome you to the Pack. Every week, I share heartfelt stories, practical advice, and lessons learned from therapy dogs, Seven and Paige Turner, and the extraordinary bond we share with our canine companions.

🌊 Sit With Me

If you’d like to go a little deeper, consider becoming a paid member of the Pack. You’ll receive Sit With Me, my twice-monthly guided reflection featuring a calming audio meditation and thoughtful journaling prompts inspired by the wisdom of dogs. Together, we’ll slow down, breathe, and discover what our dogs have been trying to teach us all along.

Thank you for reading—and for helping make the world a little safer for dogs.

🐾 Life is better with dogs.
Seven and Paige Turner are proof.

Say No To “Rage Bait”

This week’s essay explored what happens when we turn our dogs’ confusion into our own entertainment. It’s called “rage bait,” and it’s unfortunately going viral online.

Say Yes to Becoming Your Dog’s Safe Place

The opposite of rage bait isn’t simply avoiding those videos. It’s becoming someone our dogs never have to question.

Our dogs spend their entire lives learning who we are. Do our words mean what they think they mean? Will the treat arrive when we promise? Can they relax beside us? Can they trust us with their hearts? Every interaction answers those questions.

In this post, we’re going to intentionally practice becoming the safest person in our dog’s world.

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