Hello, my name is Julie and I come from a dog family. Which means the following - I laugh hard at cruel cat jokes, I talk about my family’s dogs as if they were human, I tend to make more jokes than the average person about “bacon” or “gravy”, and I always, without fail, will cry my eyes out when a dog dies in a movie (whereas a person dying in a movie will only receive my tears about 30% of the time).

Before we go farther, let’s clarify some things. Just because I tear up at dog movies and my brothers and I sit around and make up funny things that we think the dogs are thinking… that does not make me a one of those freaky dog-lovers who does not know how to communicate with people. I would never venture to say that a dog could ever take the place of or hold the importance of a human relationship. That said, a relationship with a dog has the possibility of serving its own special purpose in your life—one that you will never understand until you experience it, and once you do, it will make you sad for those who never will.

Named by true children of 80’s pop culture, Gizmo was a constant companion to me through some of the roughest years (as they are for most people): 12 and beyond. I don’t care what anyone says—dogs have personalities. And Gizmo didn’t have to be able to talk to communicate hers to me. Who has not been comforted by a friend, wordlessly, with sympathetic eyes or a hug? Dogs can do no less. They know when you’re mad, when you’re hurt and when you’re happy—and they respond appropriately. As we all well know, they love unconditionally. There are few people in our lives who can match that.

When I went away to college, I always joked that I missed Gizmo more than I missed my family. But in a way, it was true – and not because I didn’t love my family. I could talk to my family on the phone, write letters, email, etc. My relationship with Giz required a physical component that couldn’t be communicated over the phone. It was the way she bounded to the door when I walked in (even if I’d only been outside for 10 mins.), nuzzled my face to say thank you, or simply rested her head on my leg while we both sighed with contentment.

Certainly I have lost people in my life that were important to me. But I have somehow managed to get through a quarter of a century without losing someone who I was really quite close and attached to. Therefore I can say with little reservation, that my most difficult loss was just last summer when Gizmo passed away. She was old and death was expected soon. Living in Kentucky and my family in Pennsylvania, I always wondered and worried if I would get to be around for her last days. Tragically, the unexpected way in which she died, created a situation that gave no one in our family one last chance to say goodbye. I cried and mourned her loss. I broke inside as I watched my happy-go-lucky dad cry harder than I’d ever seen. She haunted my dreams for months after her death, an occurrence that finally made me realize I had lost more than just a family pet.

I will always miss her. That’s the beauty of a good relationship – human or not. The other never really leaves you, and you in turn will never forget. So this blog, on this day, is in tribute to Gizmo Q. Weber and to every other curious human/dog relationship that has exceeded common reasoning. Here’s to all those dogs who took their owners by surprise when they thought they were “just getting a pet.” May your naps be long, may there be bunnies for chasing in abundance and may treats fall from the table like manna from heaven. Remember, in doggy heaven, everything comes with gravy.