4 Lessons I've Learned from my Animals

I feel like sometimes people look at me like I'm a weirdo, the amount of love I carry for my animals & the deep connection I feel to them. The feeling especially comes in when I am on the floor with a strange dog letting it kiss my face as I whisper sweet nothings in its ear. 

Yes, it's a thing.

My dogs taught me how to slow down & my horses taught me how to trust: in myself and the universe. 

They've taught me how to love, unconditionally & remind me to play, every day. 

I've learned major life lessons from each of them at pivotal points in my life & I'd like to share their story.  

Dexter: 

It was 2014 and my (now ex) husband & I got the wild idea to get a puppy for our kids for Christmas. They were 5 & 7 years old that year. 

I grew up with all kinds of animals because my mom owned & ran a pet store when I was growing up. She didn't just own it, we lived in it, a home attached to the back of the store. It happens to some, whatever you grow up around you end up resisting - this was my story. 

I didn't want animals to take care of. Two kids felt like plenty, but my oldest daughter, Mckenzie, begged us. She knew her dad was slightly allergic and I didn't want a big dog so she went ahead and did the research for us. 

"A maltepoo! That's what I want! It looks like a little teddy bear and dad won't be allergic..." she told us with her little lisp as she scrolled through photos on google.

My mom was still in the pet business at that time & referred us to a woman in Missouri who was just about to have a litter of maltepoo puppies. We made the 3 hour drive to meet the lady & as I held the little 6-week puppy that fit perfectly in the palm of both hands, I felt the urge to say yes. So we did. 

We picked the little guy up a couple of weeks later & planned on surprising the girls with him on Christmas morning. This was like - every kids dream - right? We dropped him off at their great-grandparents home who offered to watch him on Christmas Eve so we could protect the surprise. 

On Christmas morning after opening all the presents, my husband said, "Awe, man - we forgot a present. I'll be right back..." The girls hardly acknowledged him as they continued to play and unbox the presents they'd already received while he slipped out the door to meet the grandparents & snag the puppy. Placed in a little wooden basket with a blanket draped over it, he walked into the house and towards the kids with the basket in his arms. 

"Here it is... Kenzie, Ella - the last present!"
Their attention turned to their dad & the basket as they shouted, "What is it?! What is it?!" 

We made them sit quietly on the couch together as he laid the basket on the ottoman in front of them asking them to close their eyes. 

Quietly, they squeezed their eyes shut so hard the crinkles in their face made me giggle. 

We removed the blanket & told them to open their eyes.

Squeals. No really... loud squeals flooded through the house as their grandparents urged them to stop screaming. I couldn't stop laughing, it was the best reaction I could have asked for. 

Kenzie immediately grabbed the puppy as we all insisted she be gentle while Ella kept squealing. I think she was overwhelmed and afraid of the 5 pound ball of fur, all in the same breath. 

Kenzie began sobbing and held the little guy with both hands wrapped around him, as close to her chest as she could get it and just kept saying, "Thank you, thank you thank you..." through her tears. 

Holy shit - I thought. My heart could have exploded right then and there. 

I named him Dexter, I was kind of obsessed with the TV show at the time (still a good show, I swear) so that's who he's named after. The girls didn't fight it, it fit him.

Dexter was like glue for our little struggling family. He was glue for me, I realized. Keeping me together when I felt like I was about to fall apart. He was the kids' dog, but the connection I built with him will be with me forever. 

I built a business with him on my lap. 
I moved my family to California & got to watch him run his little heart out every day on the beach.
I held him in the car as we left California, Denver bound, tears rolling down my face. 
He was in the room when I told my husband I wanted a divorce. 
He laid in my lap watching movies with me while the kids were in school and I battled the lonliness.
He was in my bed as I became ill & recovered from my surgeries. 
He sat out on the balcony with me to sunbathe as I regained my strength. 
He approved as I dated & grieved with me as relationships ended. 
He watched our girls grow, year after year, probably in as much awe as I was in. 

And today, he's the little old man that has to wear diapers because he likes to make sure that his smell is all over our home. 

As he's gotten older (he just turned 9), it's like he's Benjamin Buttton-ing life. His energy is just vibrant, his love is so deep, and his little face, it hasn't aged a day.

My sweet old man, thank you for teaching me unconditional love. 

Archie:

My (ex) boyfriend and I had been together for almost two years and had been talking about getting a dog. It was fall of 2020 and I was in one of the deepest depressions I'd ever experienced, personally. The idea of a new dog felt like a little source of joy I could potentially cling to, especially after how much love I'd experienced with Dexter. 

My boyfriend had never owned a dog and after it felt like he'd never make a decision, I decided to take matters into my own hands. We'd talked about 4-5 different breeds and I went with the one that excited me the most, Golden Retriever. 

They just looked like balls of snuggly love, I didn't care if they shed, I could handle some hair - I thought. 

I found a woman who was going to have some puppies, half English Cream & half American Golden, right around the time I wanted to gift the ball of love to my boyfriend for his birthday. I picked a male from the litter, one who had more of a light golden color, mostly because he'd match Dexter. 

When we picked him up the day before Halloween, he was just 8 weeks old and fit in the palm of both of my hands, just like Dexter had. It was wild to think that this dog would grow to 60-70lbs. I'd just to had to see it to believe it. 

He was a little, uncoordinated lump of love. He pounced around the house with his innocent little barks as he tried to play with Dexter who was so unsure of him. Eventually, they became best friends.

One week Archie was shorter than Dexter.
The next week, their backs were the same height, and the following week, Archie had surpassed Dexter in size. It was so fun watching him grow. 

We had signed up for obedience classes when he was just a couple of months old. We wanted to get a jumpstart on his behavior as it was my dream to take him hiking with me, letting him off leash to roam by my side. During one of our sessions, the trainer said that he was moving a little funny with his back left leg. 

I thought she was crazy and then believed my boyfriend must be smoking the same thing she was because I couldn't see what they were seeing. We made a vet appointment for Archie just to have him checked out and after an x-ray and hour drive to a specialist, it was confirmed that his back left leg hadn't developed the ball & socket joint. In fact, it looked as if his little leg was just floating there on the x-ray. 

I was shocked and my boyfriend was a little upset that I hadn't taken it seriously until then. 

When we got home, I held Archie, collapsed into his little body rolls and cried, apologizing to him that I had overlooked such a huge ailment. I felt so bad, so guilty that I hadn't seen what everyone else saw. 

Archie and I's relationship changed from that moment on. Truthfully, I felt a connection to him that I don't think my boyfriend had. I held him one day, tears rolling down my face, still grieving his little underdeveloped body, and whispered to him: "It's okay. It's all going to be okay and we're going to work through this together because I understand; I'm broken too..." (referring to my ileostomy). 

We spent the next several months in training which was more like physical therapy for Archie. Then, I was in actual physical therapy appointments, specialist follow ups, and filling prescriptions like it was my full time job. In reality, it kind of was; I allowed it to consume me. 

I had been told year after year, month after month, week after week, by friends, people on social media, energetic healers, life coaches - literally everyone in my life was telling me that I needed to slow down. I had been in such a "hustle" mentality for so many years that I was starting to feel the affects of serious burnout around the time we got Archie. 

I saw him in that season of my life as a gift from the universe. 

I am a believer that if we don't slow down or listen to the cues, the universe will force us into a pause and that's exactly what happened when we got Archie. 

My day revolved around him.
Waking up early and trading my bed for the couch.
Laying on the floor while he ate breakfast. 
I'd read my book while he had a mid-morning snooze next to me. 
I'd lay on the floor playing with him, waiting for my pre-workout to kick in. 
He'd grab at my workout bands while I moved my body and laughed.
He'd lay under my feet while I'd try to focus on work, mid-day. 
We'd take walks after work, keeping them short so we didn't stress out his legs. 
I'd sneak him little pieces of food while I cooked dinner, snuggle with him on the couch as we watched our show before bed, and eventually talk my boyfriend into letting him sleep in bed with us which was the beginning of a never-ending habit that I wouldn't trade for anything. 

Fast forward three years, he's my world. He walks a little funny, but he's adapted perfectly to his birth defects and spends his spare time working as a therapy dog in all kinds of settings.

My kids say that I play favorites with him, treating Archie like a "favorite child" and I laugh it off because we don't have favorites, right?!

It's just a different relationship. 
It's a deep love.
It's an understanding.
It's an emotional connection that I've never felt. 

He's by my side, even now as I write, sprawled out under my office chair with zero cares in the world; convinced that today - this exact moment - is perfect. 

He's my alarm clock every morning, truthfully. I don't have to set my alarm clock, really ever, because when the sun starts to wake up, spreading her warmth around the land, Archie starts to wake up. I can feel him move and shift in the bed and half awake, I peek open one eye and he's laying 2 inches from my face just starting at me. If I make any slight movement or shift in my breath, he'll plunge his cold, wet nose into the crease of my neck and nudge as if to say, "Mommmm I saw you! The sun is up!" ...as if I didn't know.

I smile, telling him good morning & giving him all the love & scratches I can before he jumps out of bed, expecting me to follow. 

"Today is my favorite day."  I feel like that's what he thinks every morning when he wakes me up and it's the biggest lesson I've learned from him: be here, today - because it's beautiful. 

Joey:

I had taken a 25-year break from being around horses. As a kid, they were in and out of my life in different seasons but there was always a draw to them, a deep desire to be in their presence. On my 9th Christmas, my dad actually bought me a little Shetland Pony named Buddy. He ended up being really mean and we had to sell him not long after. 

In late 2021 I found myself feeling like I was missing things in my life. My relationship felt like it was crumbling, my business was different and growing, my kids were getting older and we had moved to a new area of Colorado. Things were simply shifting. 

I just wanted joy in my life, I remember thinking. 
I wanted to feel good, happy. 
I wanted to laugh & feel grounded at the same time. 

"When was the last time I remember feeling that free?!" I said to myself out loud as I was driving home one day. 

As if the universe heard me, I started to notice the fields on each side of me, ranches with 10+ acre lots in every direction I looked. I'd noticed it before but that day I really soaked in the beauty of Colorado, the vast space and big sky that covered the area we'd moved to. 

I kept driving and as the ranches kept popping by and I noticed horse after horse in the pastures. Some playing and biting at each other; some laying down and/or standing up to nap in the sun. 
I time traveled to my childhood, thoughts of riding my neighbors horse, thoughts of Buddy and how much fun I had when he wasn't trying to bite me, and images of riding through the woods at my Uncles house. 

I felt free back then, happy and carefree. 
I could smell the smells & remember how grounded I felt, even as a 9 year old. 

That's it. I would love to be around horses again. Maybe I could taking riding lessons? 

A quick Google search and a phone call later, I was signed up for adult riding lessons at a ranch just 5 minutes from my house. I went to my first lesson the following Monday. 

The "ranchiest" cowboy I'd ever met greeted me and walked me out to get one of the lesson horses named Taz, a chestnut Mustang. He had a white "tazmanian devil" shape on his forehead.  

Depending on how much Taz had been used that week, I'd sometimes grab Cesar for lessons. He was a little shorter than Taz with the roundest belly I'd ever seen. 

I stayed consistent with weekly riding lessons and in the Summer of 2022, my instructor told me that a few mustangs had just been rescued, two of which were pregnant. I was insanely intrigued and asked what would happen to the babies. He told me that like the mares, they'd go up for adoption, hopefully finding a home. 

Intrigued more, I asked, "Well... can just... anyone adopt them?" 
More or less, he said yes. 

I told him I was extremely interested in seeing them when they were born & asked all kinds of questions and boarding & care, he probably thought I was crazy. 

On September 1st, 2022, a foal was born and on the 19th, I got to go meet him for the first time. I claimed him that day. 

The gentle, joyful energy he exuded was contagious. Joy was the only word that kept coming up for me as I thought of names for him. Joy, the slow down, he had gifted me with so much but slow joy felt like it. Joy. Joyyy. Joooyyyy. Jooeeyyyy. Joey. That's it. Joy, slowed down. 

Do you believe in love at first sight? I do. I've been in love six times in my life: my high school boyfriend, my (ex) husband, my (ex) boyfriend of 4 years, Dexter, Archie... and now, Joey.

I made that 45 minute drive to see him at least once a week from September thru March till we weaned Joey from his momma, Honey, and moved him north to the ranch where I did lessons. I spent our visits together talking to him, letting him smell me and explore me, blowing gently into his nose (my dad told me this will help him imprint on me, I don't know if it's true or not but I didn't care), and playing with him, running around his paddock like I was a horse. 

Joey and I have spent nearly every day together since moving him. I increased my lessons to 2x/week so I could keep up with my riding and also start doing some ground work & walking with Joey. For our lessons, we'd walk up to the arena, very... very... slowly, as he explored all of the fencing, random human things set out on the path, and new horses. Inside the arena, I would brush him and attempt to teach him how to stand still, borderline impossible for a 7 month old Mustang. After grooming, I'd take him into the round pen & allow him to run and get all of his energy out before teaching him how to walk, trot, and canter on command. 

I found so much joy in this process with him each week.
He forced me into ultra awareness. Self-awareness, paying attention to my energy, and reminding me to not take myself so seriously. He'd rear and kick up letting out a little neigh as I made him go faster. When I slowed down to take a breath, he would too. When I stopped, he'd face me and walk into the center of the round pen towards me, nuzzling my core with his big, soft nose as if he was giving me a hug. 

Joy, so much joy. 

He's 15 months old now and we've since moved to a new ranch, one a little more peaceful, (I shared in my September Newsletter) and I feel like Joey & I's connection has deepened even more. 

Every day, I walk into the barn greeting him as he lets out a little rumble as if to say, "hey mom!"
I open his stall and he bumps my hand with his nose to greet me before I melt into him, smiling ear to ear. I put on his halter and release him out into the pasture where he explodes his playful energy all over the acreage. 

He spends his time running & jumping, flinging his head as he releases little side kicks into the air at no one before he picks the perfect spot to plop down and roll around. 

When I walk out into the pasture, I also find the perfect little spot, avoiding the little prickly weeds that might poke my butt through my jeans, and I sit to just watch him. 
I notice my breath, steadily flowing in and out of my body. 
I notice the wind, blowing my hair around my face. 
I notice my face, the gentle smile pasted across it as I let out little carefree giggles at his movements. 

After an hour or two, he follows me back into his paddock to get his grain. 
Taking off his halter, I scratch around his ears and hold his face as I kiss him right on the forehead, whispering, "thank you..." in gratitude for his gentle reminder & my lesson, to prioritize joy. 

Cesar:

I met Cesar that first Fall when I started my riding lessons. He was a little older and was used as second choice in lessons behind Taz so at first, I didn't get to ride him a lot. 

Once I got comfortable and confident on Taz, my trainer suggested that I start riding Cesar because he would give me a little more trouble which would help improve my skills. Great, I thought. 

Cesar is a Red Roan Mustang who seemed like the munchkin of the ranch. At 13ish hands high, with a belly like a barrel and a fully grown mustache on his upper lip, he stole my heart.  

And, he definitely improved my skills. 

I share a big chunk of his story in the same Newsletter I mentioned above, but when I found out the ranch I was working at was restructuring and eventually selling, I asked my trainer if I could adopt Cesar. He joyfully said that he'd love nothing more than if I kept Cesar as my own. 

It was an intuition, a gut pull that I felt the need to listen to. 
I moved Cesar to the new ranch with Joey and he also settled right in, adopting the calmness that the new ranch brought. I had hired a new trainer so I could continue work with Joey and shared with her that my goals for Cesar were different than my goals with Joey. 

He was about 20 years old and had been used for riding lessons for as long as I knew of and I wanted this season of his life to be different, calmer. I wanted to chase that deep connection & grounded energy I felt with Cesar and shared that I'd love to learn to ride bare back with him. 

On the first lesson riding him after all of the changes, my trainer left his halter on and made reins for me using the lead rope, no bridle or bit. I sat on top of him with no saddle or pad obstructing our connection. As I asked him to walk forward, I could feel every movement of his body, every muscle deciding their next move. I took a deep breath and sank into him, feeling him do the same. 

I felt tears well up behind my eyes as it felt like our souls touched. 

The experience only lasted 10 minutes and in that time, I could feel our lifetimes merge. I know, I realize how silly this sounds but it's true. 

I met with an animal communicator & healer a few weeks later, she actually studied at the Heart Math Institute and has a PhD, combining the science and spiritual worlds. I was fascinated by her as she tapped into Cesar & Joey both, energetically. I'll spare you all of the details except these: 

She shared that Cesar & I have, in fact, been together in 4 lifetimes. 
"He is your soul horse" she shared with me and our trainer, the man that previously owned Cesar and who taught me so much, was the vehicle to get him to me. 

She went on to share how much love he has for me, how safe he feels, and how his soul is meant to bring the wisdom of his many lives and provide grounding and healing energy. 

This was one of the few times I cried during our 90 minute session as she shared this.

Later that day I made my daily trip out to the ranch and when I walked into the barn, catching his attention, I teared up again. I opened his barn stall door, touched his big nose to my hand as a greeting, held his face and whispered, "I see you..."  

His presence is powerful. Though he is a gentle giant as she called him, his energy, connectedness, and grounding presence has brought me all of the same things. 

He's my reminder to remember the power within myself and stand firmly on my two feet, recognizing the connection I have with the earth and the animals I share it with.