The Other Side of Nice

Recently, a memory popped up on my Facebook from 11 years ago: the day we brought home our first puppy.

From the time she was little, my daughter begged and begged for a dog. We had always been a cat household, and I kept telling her, “When the time is right.” Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if I’d ever follow through on that promise, but I did what I could to keep her requests at bay.

Then one summer, a friend sent me an ad from a local classified site. The puppy’s little eyes stared back at me through the screen, and I knew I couldn’t resist. Were we ready? Not at all. But we had lost our cat about a year earlier, and our house still felt empty without the presence of a pet.

I grew up with animals from the time I was a toddler. My father loved German Shepherds, and those big, lovable companions were my safe place — where I would land when I needed comfort, reassurance, or just a hug. After I moved out, life was too busy for a dog, so cats became our family’s answer. With one daughter starting university, another in grade 11, and my youngest finally old enough to start learning responsibility, it felt like maybe, just maybe, the right time.

Jokes on me — that dog didn’t become only my daughter’s; she became mine as well. My best buddy. For 11 years now, she has been there through every up and down, woven into every season of our family’s life.

I used to think having a dog might tie us down, that she would be just another responsibility. But the truth is, pets are so much more than that. They are lifelines. Emotional rescue wrapped in fur.

There’s something sacred about the way an animal senses your energy before you even speak. On days when I am worn down or stretched too thin, she knows. She follows a little more closely, rests her head on my lap a little longer. She doesn’t ask me to explain or be okay — she just sits in silence with me. Present. Soft. Unbothered by my tears, silence or frustrations.

Pets don’t keep score. They don’t withhold affection or carry grudges. They don’t care if you’re distracted, distant, or imperfect. They are simply there. Maybe that’s what healing feels like — the quiet presence of someone who allows you to just be.

In a world so often full of conditions, expectations, and tangled relationships, pets remind us what pure, uncomplicated connection feels like. They anchor us and become the quiet place we come back to when the world is too loud.

There are some kinds of love you don’t realize you’re starving for until you feel them — the kind that asks for nothing, judges nothing, and somehow knows exactly when to curl up beside you without saying a word.

That’s the kind of healing energy pets bring into our lives.