It’s easy to mark time by big, seismic events. For me, the last decade has been a fault line. It really all began with the quiet, devastating loss of Grandpa Lavern. The man who taught me how to read the land, fix a motor, and find solace in the rhythm of a cast. When he left, a fog rolled in, a deep, pervasive haze I chose to live in for far too long. And in the shifting, uncertain landscape of that decade, through the ups and downs of divorce, the heartbreaking loss of daily custody of my kids, and the long, slow journey back to clarity, there have been three small, fierce, unwavering heartbeats at the center of it all: my Rat Terriers.
Flower, my oldest, now twelve years old. She saw the beginning of it all. The dissolution of a marriage, the gut-punch of watching my kids go, the quiet house that felt too big. She was the steady, warm weight on the couch, the demanding gaze that insisted on a walk, a distraction from the dull ache of absence. She’s seen the worst of my fog, and her eyes, though clouded with age now, have always held an unblinking loyalty. She remembers the empty house, and now, she sees it full again.
Then came Rocket, the middle one, now four. He arrived when the healing was already underway, but the wounds were still fresh. A burst of chaotic energy, a furry rocket-ship of pure joy. He embodied the hope, the frantic, joyful chaos of a life slowly rebuilding. He’s the one who bounces off the walls when the kids visit, reminding me that pure, unadulterated happiness is still possible, still within reach.
And finally, my Bella. The youngest, at three. She’s the constant presence now. The one who sits beside me in the boat as I cast for pike, her nose twitching with the scents of the lake. She’s the quiet companion on the motorcycle trips, just as ready for adventure as I am. Bella, who has seen the recent clarity, the emergence from the haze, the renewed purpose in my eyes. She is the anchor in the present, the one who reminds me to be here, now, fully.
A lot can happen in ten years. Custody battles that rip your heart out. Holidays that feel empty. The agonizing wait for phone calls. The slow, painful rebuild of a life that felt shattered. But through every single one of those moments, through the darkest depths of that beer-soaked fog, and through the slow, exhilarating climb out of it, those three Rat Terriers were there. They didn’t judge. They didn’t ask for explanations. They just were.
They were the insistent nudges for morning walks when I felt like I couldn’t move. They were the warm bodies curled against me on the couch when loneliness was a physical ache. They were the frantic tail wags at the door when the kids finally came home, first for visits, and then, eventually, for good. The sight of my youngest son’s gear piled in the hallway, the sound of laughter echoing through rooms that once felt too quiet, the gentle chaos of a house truly lived in again—those moments are punctuated by the eager yips and happy growls of Flower, Rocket, and Bella.
My son moving back in permanently wasn’t just a physical return; it was a profound healing. It filled a void I hadn’t realized how deep it was until it began to close. And as that chapter of my life unfolds, marked by a clear head and a renewed sense of purpose, my Rat Terriers are right there, witnessing it all.
They’ve seen me at my lowest, and they’re seeing me now, fighting for my health, chasing those amber trichomes in my cannabis garden, fixing old engines, and casting a line into clearer waters. Each one, in their own way, has been a therapist, a confidante, a furry, four-legged reason to keep going.
So, yeah. Ten years. A lot of life. A lot of hard lessons. But if you ask me, every dad navigating the turbulent waters of life needs a Rat Terrier. Or three. Because sometimes, the purest love, the most steadfast loyalty, and the most compelling reason to keep putting one foot in front of the other comes in a small, tenacious, incredibly furry package. They don’t just fill a house; they help you rebuild a home, and yourself, within it.
Leave a Reply