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Welcome to the first email! I'm stoked that you signed up to receive these chapters each week and hope you enjoy them. I'll include links to the audio version and video version as well in case you want to check them out. And of course you can always buy the full book on Amazon if you'd like.

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Enjoy!

Darryl

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Chapter 1 - Heart Dog

This is the story about the dog who saved my life. He didn’t pull me out of a burning building or dig me out from underneath an avalanche. He didn’t fight off a bear so I could have time to run for help or scare off a pack of wolves in the dark of night. Even had we been in any of those situations I doubt he would have done any of those things because he was just like me. Big, a bit of an idiot, and really just wanting to run around and goof off.

The truth is that he never saved me from death. What he saved me from was not really living. 

I know, I know. I can feel you cringing. I cringed as I wrote that. But if you have had the chance to share your life with your heart dog then I think you might understand where I’m coming from. And if not, well let me explain what a heart dog is. 

We are all connected to our dogs. We bond with them and they with us. Your dog gets to know your mannerisms and your habits. You throw on your jacket in the morning and they run to the door, knowing a walk is coming. You sit down at the table for dinner and they casually sidle up next to you. Just in case. Dogs have learned to read our expressions. They can tell when we’re sad and need a cuddle, or when we’re upset and need a distraction. A dog spends its entire life with you and over those years you learn to love each other. 

But a heart dog is different. 

I grew up in a house of scientists and engineers so phrases like heart dog and rainbow bridge that you hear in the dog community often would be regularly dismissed in my house. But how else would you describe a dog that looks at you and sees you. Not the person you’re pretending to be. Not the person you’re aspiring to become. Not the person people think you are. They see you as you are today. They see all the scars, all the warts, all the faults and all those things you try to hide away. They see all the beauty, all the whimsey, and all the strength you have inside you. They see it all and they do something special. 

Not only do they make you feel loved. They make you realize that you are worth loving. 

This is the story of my heart dog. Or rather, this is a collection of stories from our lives together. It’s not a story that is remarkable because it is unique, but rather one that is remarkable because it is one that all of us who have met and lived with our heart dog will find familiar. 

Enjoy it as you would a book with a weathered cover and deep creases throughout its spine earned from many turnings of its pages. Find comfort here as you would in seeing a familiar face at the door or eating a meal that brings you back to a simpler time. 

And if you have not yet met your heart dog then let our story give you a sneak peek into that experience. Regardless of how you may imagine life to be like with your heart dog, I can assure you of one thing: it's even better. 

If you're not a dog person and have no interest in heart dogs then you're clearly in the wrong place. You can probably still ask for a refund if you bought this book. Click the help icon or maybe the little chat bubble thing? I don't know, you have to figure that out on your own. If it's on Amazon then while you're there go ahead and buy yourself a mirror with express delivery so you can take a long hard look at yourself because what kind of a person doesn't like dogs? 

Sorry, where was I? Dogs, heart dog, right. But before we talk about that we have to take a step back and talk about something a little more wild.  

Wolves.

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Chapter 2 - Wolves

Going to the zoo was pretty much as good as it got for 8 year old Darryl. It was better than a pillowcase full of candy at Halloween, better than staying up late to watch MacGyver, it was even better than getting my brothers in trouble (something I excelled at). On the rare occasions that I got to visit the Cherrybrook Zoo in Saint John there wasn’t an enclosure I didn’t want to visit.  I was a self-professed animal expert and made it my job to know everything there was to know about the animals I encountered. As we bounced from enclosure to enclosure I would spout off facts about the animals inside. And if I didn’t have any facts to share then I did what any other 8 year old would do: I just made some up. 

I loved visiting all of the enclosures but if the animals inside had big teeth and a penchant for red meat they topped my list. One exhibit always stood out from the rest. It was the one I looked forward to the most every time we went to the zoo. 

The wolves. 

It’s not hard to see why a young boy would love wolves. They’re apex predators with powerful jaws, sharp teeth, and piercing howls. Look into their golden yellow eyes and you’re overwhelmed with a sense of mystique and fear. Add a full moon behind a howling wolf head with a little purple haze in the background and you’ve got yourself a best-selling t-shirt right there. 

What I loved about them the most though, was that they ran in packs. 

They would do everything together and anything for each other. They hunted as a unit so that they could take down animals 5 times their size like bison or moose. They had complex social structures where everyone plays an important role whether they are protecting the territory, bringing in food, or looking after the pups. Everyone has a job and everyone is needed. They run together, they eat together, they live and die as a group. I looked at my two older brothers, my two older sisters, my mom and my dad and I saw my very own wolf pack. 

Truth be told, I didn’t always want a dog. What I really wanted was a wolf. 

I would watch them in the zoo, lounging on the rocks in that suedo-relaxed manner that said: “Sure, we’re calm now, but step inside this fence and we will tear you apart!” Awesome. 

When the movie White Fang came out in 1991 it should come as no surprise that I was desperate to see it. A movie where a young prospector meets a wild wolf dog named White Fang. Then earns his trust through kindness and compassion and in return White Fang becomes his loyal companion and helps him survive the harsh Alaskan wilderness. Are you kidding? This movie was made for me! 

I would not rest until I had seen it. 

My parents broke with tradition and let me stay up late into the evening waiting for the movie to arrive at our local Blockbuster. We called every hour to see if it was in yet. The kind of patient indulgence that you can only really appreciate 20 years after the fact. When I finally got to see it I was blown away. I knew one thing with the type of certainty that only an 8 year old can muster: I was getting a wolf!

I. Was. Getting. A. Wolf.

Being the youngest in a family of seven has its perks but it also means that your vote doesn’t carry a lot of weight in family discussions. I  begged my parents for a dog, a furry best friend to play the role of my wolf. I pleaded with them for a White Fang of my own. I hammered that drum every chance I got. But in the end it was 1 against 6.

And then there was Phoebe.

Phoebe was our first (and last) family pet. She was a cat and the reason we now know that everyone in our family is very much allergic to cats. It was a brief experiment into pet ownership that went so poorly that one day Phoebe was just gone. Mom smiled down at me and told me she had gone to live on a farm in the country where she could be truly happy.

I pushed on for years, despite being the only member of my family who wanted a dog. Even my youthful enthusiasm waned over time as I realised I was fighting a losing battle. I had to resign myself to the knowledge that our household would never be one that included pets. My wolf dream was slowly fading away.

Time marches on and my days in elementary school soon gave way to junior high. Junior high gave way to high school, and eventually high school too was tucked away with my other memories. Over the years my desire for a canine companion never left me completely, but it gave way to newer loves. I discovered my love for fast cars through Road & Track and Car & Driver magazines. I discovered a love for competitive sport through basketball, soccer, and eventually rugby. Over time even girls, who had an impeccable track record of being annoying and weird, were also confusingly starting to peak more of my interest.

Funny how that happens.

With these new interests occupying my thoughts I rarely thought about my wolf any more and just like anything neglected, it continued to fade into the mist.

In 2006 I was living in Halifax pursuing a Bachelor of Commerce at Saint Mary’s University. I was playing rugby for the school team and for a local club at the time. Rugby had become my sport and was a huge part of my life. After getting penalties in soccer and fouls in basketball I had finally found a sport that rewarded me throwing my absurdly large frame around with reckless abandon. Me and rugby were a match made in heaven and it also led to my next match. A match with one of those pesky girls.

We were at the Thirsty Duck off Spring Garden Road in Halifax for the weekly Stink & Drink. This is where we went straight from rugby training, which typically finished with sprinting up and down citadel hill, to the pub. We were sweaty, covered in dirt, mud, and sometimes blood and we sat and drank beer until the sun was well below the horizon. It was glorious.

On this particular occasion the women’s team was trying on their new tracksuits at the pub. There was a box with all the different sizes and the women were lining up to try them on to see who needed what size. 

And there she was.

I remember the image of her there like it was yesterday. Blonde hair up in a ponytail, green eyes shining, and a bright smile that made me feel some kind of way. She held up a jacket in front of her and someone said something that made her laugh. She was beautiful before but when I saw her laugh I knew I was in trouble. I was in trouble because I knew one more thing as well.

This girl is way out of my league. Still, I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge.

The courtship wasn’t easy. My behaviour was flawless but for some reason she was hesitant to give in to my advances. Something about every single one of her friends telling her to stay away from me. Well if her friends were going to get involved then so would mine. After a time she couldn’t go anywhere in town without someone asking her if she was going to go out with me. Teammates from the school team, older lads from the club team, school mates from university, anyone and everyone that I could convince to help with the cause. Soon, people I had roped into the plan were roping in their friends that I didn’t even know. It was like an early pyramid scheme except only the person at the very top was going to get screwed.

Eventually she gave in to the blitz and let me take her out.

We saw a movie and had drinks. We walked home and when her shoes started to hurt she took them off and walked barefoot. I carried her shoes and she laughed at my jokes. I dropped her off and we kissed on the stairs of her apartment. She looked up at me and smiled.

A year later we were moving into our very first apartment together. It was a beautiful old place on Inglis St. in the South End of Halifax with a spiral staircase down to a basement kitchen and hardwood floors throughout. As I moved our boxes and furniture in, she stood there looking confused.

“Shouldn’t we clean this place up first?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” I answered, gesturing to the empty apartment, “It’s already clean.”

She drew a finger along one of the baseboards and held up the dust-coated digit for my inspection. She also pointed out the literal tumbleweeds of dog-hair rolling across the floor from the previous owner’s husky. I had a lot to learn about cleanliness, apparently. 

Danielle helped me with my hygiene game and I taught her that no, toast is not a meal. She was pursuing her Bachelor of Science at Dalhousie University and was set on a PhD in Marine Biology following that. We spent a lot of time sharing our passion for the natural world. Watching documentaries, talking about animals, sharing stories from our childhoods, and our hopes for the future. It was sharks she wanted to study but she also loved dogs and as we talked we realised that we both wanted to have our own dog one day.

It hit me like a truck. After all those years, despite my neglect, it seemed my wolf was returning.

As our relationship grew we talked about dogs more and more. Our upbringings were very similar in many ways, but one difference was that Danielle grew up in a house with dogs. She had a lab named Duchess at home and a cat called Ninja. When I told her about Phoebe and how she had gone to live on a farm she gave me a sympathetic smile and casually mentioned that she thought that was a kind thing for my mom to say.

“What do you mean?” I probed, “She loved it on the farm. There was lots of space and mice for her to catch and…” I trailed off as the realization of Phoebe’s likely fate finally dawned on me.

We quickly moved on.

Over time our conversations moved from “I would love to have a dog someday…” to “When do you think we might be able to get one?”.

We would need to have our own place that was pet friendly, of course. We would need jobs and income to support ourselves. We would need stability in our lives. None of these things were on the immediate horizon but those conversations were the beginning of something special. Something that would shape our lives in ways we couldn’t possibly predict. 

It would take another 3 years and a trip to the far side of the world before that journey would truly begin but these were the first steps on the path that would lead to a dog we would call Nova.