It’s Almost Like I Got Him on Purpose: Watching Quill Become the Dog He Was Meant to Be
It’s been 9 months since our dog Tinkerbell passed away.
Well… 9 months, 15 days, and 6 hours, if we’re being exact.
And somehow it still feels surreal that she’s really gone. Maybe that’s normal when someone has been woven into your life for twelve years and two days.
4,383 days with Tink.
289 without.
And in those 289 days, we’ve been learning how to be a one-dog family — something I have not been since 2005 when my mom passed away and her German Shorthaired Pointer Dutch came to live with my black Lab Babe and me.
Deciding Whether to Get Another Dog — and the Choice to Wait
I’ve lost track of how many dogs I’ve texted to my husband with a “Check out this one…”
He always calls my bluff with, “Go ahead, go get him,” and then I do what I always do: talk myself out of it before it becomes anything more than a thought.
There were so many moments when a name or a photo or a story made me wonder if Tink was sending a dog our way. A few had lost their humans, and I kept thinking, they lost their person, we lost our girl… maybe she’s nudging this one toward us.
One was named Galaxy, which seemed like it was meant to go with my Peter Quill namesake. There was a Maggie, the name of our late Basset Hound. There was one with the same name as my husband. But every time, I found myself circling back to the same truth: If I had to lose Tink, all I want right now is to lean into this time with Quill.
Why a Multi-Dog Household Feels Like Home
When our friend’s dog Chewie stayed with us for ten days in January, it felt like the world clicked back onto its axis. Not because he could ever replace my girl — nothing and no one could — but because I’m happiest in a multi-dog household. Being part of a little pack feels like belonging to a clique that never gets petty, never excludes anyone, never turns on itself. Humans could learn a thing or two.
But in the spirit of “two things can be true at once,” even though I know we’ll add another dog someday — for us and for Quill — there’s something sacred about this season of just him, my husband, and me.
How Jackson “Sent” Quill to Us
I’ve written before about how Quill was the dog Jackson “sent” to us. Dog people understand this without needing an explanation. It’s that feeling that your late dog nudged the next one forward and whispered to the universe, This is the one. This is the next soulmate for my human.
Jackson died on July 10, 2022. Quill’s mother was inseminated that same weekend. Jackson is also Quill’s “great uncle,” if we’re using human terms. Those two things, combined with the rawness of losing my heart dog, made it impossible not to feel that Quill was meant for me. Just like Jax had healed my heart after losing Babe and Dutch, I thought Quill would help me through losing Jax. And he did, but not in the way I’d imagined.
A Year of Illness, Stress, and Missed Puppy Moments
Quill’s arrival was delayed by my husband’s emergency appendectomy and three-week hospital stay. As soon as he recovered, I ended up needing an unexpected hysterectomy. Then Tink’s liver flared, and she needed a biopsy. I joked that the three of us had matching laparoscopic scars — mom, dad, doggie daughter — but the truth is, it was a lot.
And just when we thought Tink’s liver issues were under control, Quill got sick with Myasthenia Gravis. Two months of searching for answers, two months of fear, two months of watching my puppy struggle. And just as he finally stabilized, Tink’s liver problems flared up again.
Sometimes I wonder if the stress of that year seeped into him and if it contributed to his acquiring of an autoimmune disease. We know stress can be a contributing factor in autoimmune diseases in humans and dogs, and Quill the most sensitive dog I’ve ever had. I didn’t get to lose myself in the joy of his puppyhood the way I did with my others. I missed moments. I missed milestones. I was physically there but so worried about all of our health that I missed the luxury of simply enjoying him.
Turning Grief Into a Deeper Bond With Quill
So while I would have never chosen to lose Tink — not to copper storage disease, not to liver failure, not to anything — I’ve tried to turn something heartbreaking into an invitation to know Quill more deeply. And I feel that growing bond time I look at him.
The difference in my bond with Quill isn’t that I love him more. I loved him from the moment I met him, and I don’t believe in there are degrees of love. You either love or you don’t. The difference is that I know him more. I’ve watched him become himself, instead of watching him watch Tink.
How Quill Learned to Be His Own Dog
I used to laugh at how he’d look to Tink for every answer.
Do you want to go outside?
Do you want supper?
Do you want a Kong?
Do you want a treat?
With every question, he’d immediately turn his head toward Tink, waiting for her reaction. If she exploded with joy, he did too. If she slunk away from the ear cleaner or “The Cabinet of Doom,” where we keep pet supplies, he followed. Dogs learn from their pack, of course, but he took it to another level. He was her shadow; she was the center of his world.
Our Daily Walks: The Ritual That Changed Everything
The biggest change since losing her has been our daily walking routine. We’ve walked every day since July 4 — except when the weather made it truly unsafe. Light rain? Fine. Temps in the teens? Fine. I grew up doing winter sports; I can handle cold. But mostly, I rally even if I don’t feel like walking simply because our walks are Quill’s favorite part of the day. And watching him enjoy that time has made it my favorite part of our day, too.
And somewhere along the way, day by day, he’s become his own dog.
He’s learning how to ask for what he wants.
He’s getting excited about our routines.
He’s learning new keywords for stuff he likes that Tink didn’t care about, like “crunchy water” from the ice maker.
He’s got his favorite toys that are new purchases since her passing.
He knows when it’s time for our walk and has invented his own over the top way of telling me he’s ready.
He’s learned to entertain himself and loves watching the animals outside the window and sitting on the deck sniffing the breeze.
He loves the cooling pad I originally got for Tink, and lays on it as his go-to spot.
Why Waiting for the Next Dog Has Been Healing
If we had rushed to put our name on a breeder’s list or adopted an older rescue right away, I think he might have gotten lost in the shuffle of that new normal. Instead, he’s had space — and I’ve had space — to really get to know him, to increase our bond, and to simply enjoy watching him be a dog. Rushing might have helped me deal with Tink’s loss on the surface, but would have robbed us of this one-on-one time with Quill.
The Intentional Choice to Feel the Dog-Human Bond Again
There’s a popular trend in social media reels right now where dog owners say, “You spend a lot of time with your dog… it’s almost like I got him on purpose or something.” I wrote about that in my book ten years ago — how the whole point of having a dog is to spend time together. But hearing that phrase now, in this season of my life when I’ve experienced how quickly 12 years can pass, hits differently. It reminds me why we got Quill in the first place.
Getting a puppy so soon after losing Jax wasn’t just about easing grief or keeping Tink company or filling the quiet in the house. It was intentional. I wanted to feel that bond again — that soul-level connection that grows only when you’re truly present with a dog as they become themselves. I wanted to build that relationship from the ground up, to watch a puppy turn into a dog and a dog turn into a companion, and to be there for all of it.
And I think that’s what was missing in Quill’s early years. Not love — love was never missing. Not bonding — especially after those terrifying months during his Myasthenia Gravis diagnosis. But MY presence. MY Attention. The ability ton simply exist and enjoy him without the weight of everything else happening around us.
Now, in this in-between season while we wait for Tink to send us the next dog, I get to be fully present with Quill. I get to enjoy him for who he is, not who he was learning from. I get to watch him grow into himself, day by day, walk by walk, moment by moment. And that was the whole point of getting him in the first place.
