A Soul Dog Taught Me How to Be a Man

Dogs are not our whole lives, but they make our lives whole.

– Roger Caras

On Monday, November 4, 2024, my soul dog, Pete, crossed the rainbow bridge. Because he was a rescue, I don’t know exactly how old he was, but various vets and my own research put him around 11 years old. In 2014, I adopted Pete from the Wiregrass Humane Society in Dothan, Alabama. And for more than a decade, he was my constant.

My rock.

My partner.

My four-legged son.

The irony isn’t lost on me that it was heart failure that finally took him, that unseen leash pulling him toward that journey I had been dreading since the day I brought him home.

This isn’t simply “cute dog” piece—though there are some stories that might make you smile. This is about how we came into each other’s lives during one of my darkest seasons.

Pete taught me lessons I never expected from a dog. The least of which was how to be a man.

A Dark Season

In 2012 and 2013, I was lost. Unemployed, feeling unemployable, and without direction. One foggy morning in December 2012, I hit a breaking point. After having some thoughts about…well…ending my earthly story (if you know what I mean) I grabbed a yellow notepad from my car and wrote the most important to-do list of my life. Three simple items—find a job, start therapy, and reach out to a life coach I’d been following online. The first two steps I tackled in the months that followed. I found a therapist in February, and I started my job that June.

The third step, however, didn’t come until early 2014, when I finally connected with that life coach. That connection was so profound that it led me to a career change to become a coach myself.

After about a month of working with her, a new leash tug took shape…so to speak. I wanted a dog. I’d grown up with pets, but I’d never had one of my own. It felt like something was calling me toward this next step, a partner for the journey that was developing.

I visited shelters without finding a connection—until February 17, 2014. There, in one of the kennels, was a white ball of energy, a young dog who seemed to be waiting just for me. When I reached in, he sniffed my hand, and I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time—a spark.

“Wanna take him for a walk? His name’s Pete. He’s a handful,” said one of the staff members. And he was a handful, in the most wonderful way.

A Decade of Life Lessons

Over the years, Pete was there for my highest highs and lowest lows. He was there when I got the proof copy of my first novel, Written in the Stone. I sat on the floor, crying uncontrollably with joy, and Pete, as confused as he was by my tears, stayed by my side.

He was also there as my dad’s health began to fail. The week after my dad passed away, Pete was glued to my hip. His big head was a constant source of comfort on my lap, licking away tears as he knew my heart was shattered.

Pete taught me patience. As he grew older, he’d take his time on our walks, pausing to sniff random spots. When I’d grow impatient, he’d look back at me, as if to say, “You’ve had your time, Human–let me enjoy mine.” He gave me the gift that slowing down wasn’t a loss. This was a gift he generously gave me countless times.

He taught me unconditional love. Since we moved from Alabama in 2017, we’ve been through some challenging times. Jobs came and went, rejections hit hard, and my confidence took hits. Through it all, Pete’s love was unwavering, as if to remind me that I was enough just as I was.

He also taught me courage and how to live in the present. I remember a walk one chilly January morning a couple of years ago when I was too engrossed in an audiobook to notice two beautiful women petting Pete at a stoplight. He had no such distractions–he was always present, always there.

The Saving Grace of a Soul Dog

I believe Pete saved my life in ways only a soul dog can. He never pulled me from the path of an oncoming car, but he saved me countless times with his presence. Sometimes all it took was a cool, wet nose on my hand, his wise, almost human-like eyes, and a smile that could brighten any day.

Pete had a great sense of humor, too. He never understood the game of fetch. He’d go get the stick, ball, frisbee, or even the random dried tortilla he found on the ground one time…but never brought them back. He insisted I chase him.

As Pete’s final breaths drew near, I promised him I’d tell his story. This article is just the beginning; a book will follow.

Many of us have soul animals—a cat who comforted you through a breakup, a dog you adopted with your partner while starting a family, or an animal who simply taught you more about yourself than any textbook ever could. Pete was my teacher, my friend, and the one who showed me how to be a man. I owe him more than words can express.

I will adopt another dog someday and love them as I did Pete. But there will never be another first.

The story of Pete Hall will outlive me. I’ll make sure of that.

Run free, Petey. See you on the dark side of the moon. You were the best boy I could have ever hoped for, and I’ll miss you every day until we meet again at the Rainbow Bridge.

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This Post is republished on Medium.

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Photo credit: Author