There’s something different about your first dog after a major life change.
Miley came into my life at a time when I needed something steady. I had wanted a Siberian Husky since I was a kid, and after my separation, I finally decided it was time. I wasn’t looking for a perfect dog. I think I was looking for something that felt like mine. Something constant. Something that would be there at the end of the day no matter what kind of day I’d had.
And then there was Miley.
I met her when she was only about four weeks old. I had second pick of the litter, but as soon as I saw her, I was drawn to her. She had this little cross-shaped marking on her forehead that somehow felt like a sign. Looking back now, I can’t really explain it. I just knew she was the one I wanted.
As a puppy, Miley was cuddly and sweet, but the innocent stage didn’t last long. Once the real Husky personality kicked in, I learned very quickly what I had signed up for.
She was smart. Ridiculously smart.
Not always in the helpful way.
One trainer told me Miley reminded her more of a wolf in the way she watched, thought, and seemed to plan everything before she acted. That description fit her perfectly. Miley has never been the kind of dog who just reacts. She observes first. Then she decides exactly how much trouble she can get into.
She became an escape artist, an instigator, and more often than not, the brains behind whatever Koda eventually got blamed for.
We tried everything to keep her contained. Cement blocks buried along the fence line. Chicken wire. A seven-foot fence. An underground electric fence. And yes, Miley would even jump the seven-foot fence. Somehow, she always seemed to find a way out. Koda would usually follow her lead, but Miley was without a doubt the brains behind it all.
And honestly, Miley has always been in charge.
Even Koda knows it.
At mealtime, Miley has to inspect both bowls first. She’ll try one, then the other, as if there’s a chance they might be different. They never are – it’s always the exact same food – but apparently she still needs to confirm that for herself before deciding which bowl Koda is allowed to eat from.
She usually eats first, and Koda waits until Miley has basically given him permission to start. It’s one of those little things that say everything about their relationship. Koda may be bigger and louder, but there has never really been any question about who runs the show.
Miley does.
There were plenty of ridiculous moments too. One of my favourites will always be the time she climbed into a tote bag at a garage sale and I ended up carrying her around in it as her little legs were tired. That photo still makes me laugh because it sums her up so perfectly. Completely comfortable and close to me.
But the funny stories are only a part of who Miley is to me.
She has always loved quietly.
She isn’t the dog who constantly demands attention. She doesn’t need to be on top of me every second. Her way of loving has been proximity. She wants to know where I am. She wants to be nearby. She wants to be part of whatever room I’m in, even if she’s lying across the room pretending she isn’t paying attention.
There were some very difficult years in my life, and Miley was simply there through all of them.
Dogs don’t fix things. They don’t make hard circumstances disappear. But there is something incredibly comforting about having one living thing that doesn’t need an explanation from you. Miley never needed me to justify how I felt. She never needed me to pretend I was having a good day.
She just stayed close.
Now she’s twelve, and I’m starting to notice all the small ways life is changing for her.
She doesn’t jump onto the bed or couch as easily anymore. Most nights she sleeps beside my bed instead of on it. Sometimes she actually lets me know when she thinks it’s bedtime, giving me that look until I finally get the hint.
She seeks out quieter spaces more than she used to. She’ll go downstairs when she wants peace. And thankfully, her days of plotting elaborate escapes have slowed down quite a bit too.
There’s a strange mix of gratitude and sadness that comes with watching an older dog change.
On one hand, I’m so thankful for every year I’ve had with her. On the other, every small change reminds me that time is moving whether I want it to or not.
Her face is older. Her body moves a little slower. She rests more.
But she’s still Miley.
She’s still watching.
Still thinking.
Still quietly keeping track of me.
Still making sure Koda remembers who’s boss.
And somehow, after all these years, she is still exactly what I needed when I brought her home.
I wanted a husky because I had dreamed about having one since childhood.
What I got was so much more than that.
I got a dog who challenged me, outsmarted me, jumped a seven-foot fence, escaped nearly everything I built, covered my house in enough fur to make several additional dogs and gave me some of the funniest memories of my life.
But more importantly, I got a companion who stayed beside me through some of the hardest parts of my life.
And now, as Miley grows older, I think I understand something I didn’t when she was a puppy.
The greatest gift she gave me was never the adventures or funny stories.
It was simply that she stayed.