Years ago, while our Doberman Keno was still alive, my husband and I started talking about what might come next. We had a dog we loved. We also had a life that included multiple sclerosis, and some questions about what could help me keep doing the things I wanted to do.
The idea of training a dog for a purpose came into those conversations. My husband had talked about it with Keno, our American Doberman rescue. By the time we were considering another dog after losing him, we’d already spent time thinking about what that partnership could mean.
It’s easier to explain the decision if I take you into a grocery store with me. A shopping cart helps me keep moving steadily. Looking around, taking in all the activity, and shifting my attention can make my balance more difficult. The cart has a job beyond carrying groceries, even if that job isn’t obvious to anyone else.
My husband calls the little movement I sometimes make a curtsy. It’s a good name. Much better than the explanation I’d have to give every time otherwise. But when we were thinking about a dog, we were also thinking about those ordinary moments and what it might look like to have help beyond the grocery cart.
I still wanted to go places. I wanted to travel with my husband and enjoy being out in the world. Those wishes were part of the conversation. So were the practical questions about finding a dog and putting in the work to train him.
When we looked for our next Doberman, we wanted what I described as “good bones.” There was a purpose behind the choice, along with everything that goes into welcoming a dog into a family. Then Whiskey arrived, bringing his own personality to a plan that had previously involved considerably less puppy opinion.
A planned partnership still has to become a real one. There’s socialization, practice, and learning how to move together. He can go faster than I need him to. I have things I want us to be able to do that he’s still learning. Neither of us became an expert simply because we had a reason to try.
I’m glad the conversations started when they did. They gave us time to think about help as something we could build into our lives. I didn’t have to have every answer about the future to know there were things I wanted to keep making room for.
That’s what I see when I look back at the plan. I see my husband and me thinking about how we could continue doing things together. I see a place for a dog beside us. And I see a future I still wanted to be part of, enough to begin preparing for it.