“Two things can be possible at once. I can be eager for the next phase of my life to begin and wholly unprepared to let this one go.”
The Decision to Downsize
My husband, Stu, was ready to downsize five years ago. I wasn’t there yet, but now, I feel like I’m almost ready too. Mostly. Downsizing means letting go of more than just the material things we’ve accumulated over the years — it means saying goodbye to pieces of our life, including our beloved dog. The thought alone brings me to tears.
Chase’s Adoption Story
Chase is a German shepherd-smooth collie mix, adopted from a rescue group back in 2010. It was only nine days after we’d said our final goodbye to our last dog.
“I can’t do this again,” I’d sobbed to my vet as she euthanized our golden retriever, the second one we’d lost to cancer in just six years. As much as I adored golden retrievers, the breed’s high risk for cancer was something I couldn’t bear to go through again. A mixed breed seemed like a safer option.
“I know a woman who rescues dogs,” my vet told me. “I have a collie mix; would you like to see a picture?”
When I saw the long snout and gentle eyes, I couldn’t help but smile through my grief. She gave me the contact, and days later, I found myself searching through Petfinder, looking at photos of adoptable dogs. That’s when I saw “Marty,” a 1-year-old mix that had been found wandering a trailer park in Kentucky. He was now being fostered in the Philadelphia suburbs, and they suspected he had been abused.
I convinced Stu and our daughter Sammie, who was 13 at the time, to come along and meet him.
Meeting Chase
Marty’s foster mom had two purebred collies, both as round and woolly as sheep. Marty, on the other hand, was smaller and thinner, weighing around 42 pounds, with ribs still visible from his time spent on the streets. His brown and white fur was soft as silk, and his soulful eyes seemed to be searching for someone to trust.
What really charmed me, though, were his ears. One moment they stood up straight, the next they tipped forward like a collie’s. He could swivel them in every direction. When he flopped onto his side and tapped my leg with a freckled paw, I was sold.
“I really think we could give him a good home,” I told Stu.
Stu, in his usual fashion, replied, “If we do this, we’re doing it for you. I don’t need another dog.”
I wasn’t worried. Stu was as much a dog lover as I was. Sammie, however, was another story.
“I don’t want this dog. I want another golden retriever,” she said, her voice full of the pain of loss.
To make it easier for her, we renamed Marty after her favorite Phillies player, Chase Utley.
Chase’s First Days at Home
From the moment Chase stepped into our home, he seemed to choose me as his person. He followed me everywhere like a little shadow. However, he made sure to express his displeasure with Sammie’s initial attitude — by leaving her two little “gifts” on her bedroom floor while she slept. Luckily, I cleaned them up before she woke.
“Why are my windows open?” she asked the next morning, wrinkling her nose.
“It smelled like a locker room in here,” I said, pointing to her softball gear. I was already protecting my new dog.
The next day, Chase tested our patience by chewing off the back of our sofa.
“Did I make a mistake?” I asked his foster mom in a panic.
“Just use a crate when you can’t keep an eye on him. He’ll come around,” she reassured me.
So I did. And eventually, Chase settled in, becoming an inseparable part of our family.
The Forgotten Chaos of Dog Ownership
Looking back, I realize that every dog I’ve had went through a destructive phase — something I tend to forget, much like the pain of childbirth, before adopting the next one. Golden retrievers, with their goofy and affectionate nature, always managed to charm me, despite their mischievous streaks. But Chase? Chase is different.
Chase’s Unique Personality
Unlike the goldens, who loved attention and play, Chase is more of an enigma. He doesn’t lick, and he’s quick to dodge an outstretched hand like a skilled boxer. Chew toys, stuffed animals, fetch? Not for him. He hates being brushed and will ignore his food until bedtime, at which point he’ll paw at the sofa until we cave and add more toppings to his bowl. Scratch behind his ears, though, and he’ll lean into you with a contented sigh.
Chase took the longest to understand, which is exactly why he’ll be the hardest to say goodbye to.
My Workday Companion
Chase is my constant companion throughout the workday. He naps on the sofa in my home office, and somehow, he always knows the exact moment I’m ready for a break. He’ll dance around me, gently nibbling at my leg until I clip on his leash for a walk.
When it comes to nail trims, however, it’s Stu he trusts. Chase wags his tail between each clip, soothed by my husband’s calming words. Once it’s done, they celebrate with treats and exclamations of, “Good boy! You did it!”
The Bond with Sammie
Though Sammie was hesitant at first, she’s grown incredibly close to Chase. He barges into her room several times a day, using his nose as a battering ram, and barks at his “Sissy” until she fusses over him with baby talk. Now 27, Sammie has delayed moving out, not wanting to miss Chase’s final days.
Facing the Future
For years, Stu has been scanning real estate listings, searching for a condo or apartment that fits our next stage in life. When I inherited a small beachside condo from my parents, in a town we’ve cherished for 35 years, the idea of living there full-time during the pandemic began to take root.
But the condo, located in a high-rise, doesn’t allow pets. There’s also the issue of Chase’s age — at 15, his legs are no longer steady, and he’d struggle with the tile floors. His barking, which has increased with age, would likely make life difficult in such close quarters.
Craving Freedom
While a part of me is devastated at the thought of letting go, there’s also a small, quiet part that yearns for the freedom of a pet-free life. After years of responsibility, the idea of an empty nest is both liberating and sad. Until that day comes, though, we’ll stay in our current home, with its fenced-in yard and friendly neighborhood that’s perfect for long walks with Chase.
The Bittersweet Reality of Short Lives
I’ve always felt it was unfair that dogs live such short lives. But over time, I consoled myself with the thought that their brevity allows us to love many throughout a lifetime. If my last dog hadn’t passed away so early, I might never have met Chase — never had the chance to offer him a safe and loving home, a family. Yet this time is different. There won’t be another dog waiting to fill the void once Chase is gone.
The Purity of a Dog’s Love
The bond between a human and a dog is one of the purest relationships imaginable. Dogs ask for so little in return for their boundless, unconditional love. Even though the pain of losing them can be overwhelming, the privilege of their companionship far outweighs that heartache.
The Joy of Loving Chase
Loving Chase has been one of the greatest privileges of my life. Even on the darkest of days, it’s hard not to smile when he presses his soft muzzle against my hand or joyfully reacts to the prospect of a walk. His rare moments of “zoomies” or frenzied digging in our yard always remind me that happiness doesn’t have to be complicated. Chase has shown me that the simple things — a nap, a treat, and a stroll with your best friend — are enough to make life feel full.
Wishing for More Time
Recently, I came across an Instagram reel about a dog who lived to 27 years old. I joked with Stu, saying, “Only 12 more years to go.” But deep down, I know that time is slipping away. As I bury my face in Chase’s scruffy neck, I find myself whispering to him, “You’re a good boy. Please stay longer.”