I’ve had animals all my life, but Snick was the first dog I added to my family after I became an adult. When I started getting involved in the dog world, the term “heart dog” kept popping up. Honestly, my initial feeling was that it was a stupid term only used by people who ceaselessly anthropomorphized* their dogs.
Seven and a half years later, I’ll willingly declare to the world that Snickers is my heart dog. 🙂
Heart Dog: What Does it Mean?
I’ve heard people use the term with a range of meanings. Some people seem to feel like every dog they’ve ever had is a heart dog. That doesn’t make any sense to me. To me, that would be like falling madly in life-long love with every person you’ve ever dated; it’s illogical and unlikely!
In my opinion, your heart dog is that once in a lifetime – maybe twice if you’re truly blessed – soul mate dog. He or she is the one you click with similarly to, but different from, how people in love click. There’s an understanding, a bond stronger than most, and a special level of communication. Your heart dog “gets” you and you get him or her right back.
How Does It Happen?
I’m not sure if there is any common thread to how these relationships come about or if they are pure chance. Maybe, like human relationships, it’s different for every connection. I decided that the best way to find out was to ask people about their heart dogs. You can see (and click through to) the list of heart dog interviews at the top right corner of this post.
What About YOUR Heart Dog
Feel free to share about your heart dog in the comments section below OR if you’d like to complete the heart dog interview and be featured on jennaandsnickers.com, contact me!
*Note: On the subject of anthropomorphization, I realize that I’m guilty of giving my dog an online personality and that his Twitter and facebook character calls me “mom.” I don’t really think of him that way though. For example, I would never refer to Snickers as a “furkid” or say that my dogs are like my children. I’m a real mom; I know the difference (and it’s a big difference)! He’s a dog, I’m a person.
Happy you found such a loving, meaningful connection with a beautiful animal. 🙂
I’ve never heard of the term Heart Dog before until your post 🙂 This will be interesting.
Mom had a heart dog years ago. His name was Skipper and she really loved him. She says now that she is a very lucky person because she thinks she now has another one – me! She shares me with dad and that makes me extra special. Mom and dad don’t have real children and while they know animals are not the same – they think it’s close!
I never really understood the term until I met my Buckley. He’s my little love.
Like you, I was iffy about the term for a while. But the dog I have now, Nala, certainly fits that description. What really does it for me is how everyone who sees us together – including people who spend a lot of time around dogs and their owners – comment about our bond. That tells me it’s something really special, and not just something in my head (and heart).
If you’re interested in talking with me more for your story, please contact me! I’d be happy to chat about my love anytime 🙂
Curious if you will be continuing more of your “heart dog” series…?
Funny you should ask Rae, I prepared the next entry this past weekend at the same time I finally posted the Canine Cocktail Pawty wrap up.
This blog is seriously depressing. Especially all these “Heart Dog” posts. Your obsession with dogs is the sign of a lonely generation of men and women, desperate to nurture a creature that gives them a counterfeit fore of the ‘love’ that is not forthcoming from more traditional sources. Except that the “love” in this sense is merely submissive pack behavior for food. Nothing more–the concept of dog soulmate or ‘heart dog’ is laughable. And I’m sure deep down you know this. If your dog is truly your ‘heart dog’, prove it. Unleash him on your next walk. See if he runs. Has he ever run away from you before? I’ll bet he has and I bet he ran without a second thought of you.
Hello Cora,
Instead of reinventing the wheel in my comment, I’ll just point you to this post instead: Discussion: The Benefits of Companion Animals to Society. Much of the discussion in the comments addresses your thoughts.
Thanks for visiting,
Jenna
I don’t disagree that dogs are useful in society at all. I just think the whole heart dog thing is delusional and unhealthy. Like a child, who truly loves a stuffed animal or a security blanket. The love that child feels for the blanket and the child’s emotional dependence on the blanket is certainly real; but that doesn’t mean the blanket loves the child back.
I was really directing you to that post because the comments have some great insight into the bond that people form with companion animals and how beneficial that can be and also because the running off without a leash argument was also addressed, not to show that “dogs are useful.”
I would be happy to direct you to some research on human/animal interaction, but it seems (from comments like “…the concept of dog soulmate or ‘heart dog’ is laughable. And I’m sure deep down you know this…” that you’re only here to express an opinion and you’re not actually open to any ideas different from your own. Let me know if I’m wrong though. This site is all about sharing and learning.
I first saw the term Heart Dog a few days ago, and have been wanting to Google want it means. That search led me here, and now knowing its definition … I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt, Sean is my Heart Dog. AND today is Sean’s 11th birthday! Happy birthday my handsomest guy in the whole wide world!! When my previous Scottish Terrier, Scotty, crossed the Rainbow Bridge after 16 years with me, I brought in Sarah and Kaitlin, two adorable female Scotties. The energy in the house was amazing, but something was missing. When the girls turned two, I decided I HAD TO find a male Scottie. They just have a different dynamic. I found a local breeder, and was overwhelmed with the 10 Scottie babies she had there. How do you pick?? Sean made it easy on me. Sean picked ME. I pulled out the three males, put them as far away from me as possible, and waited to see who came to me. Every time, Sean made a beeline to me. Every time. So it was decided. And we have been inseparable ever since. I can list off things that he and I do that by outward appearances doesn’t seem all that special, but there is just that inner click/connection there.
Thanks for visiting and for sharing your heart dog story Glenda. 🙂 And happy belated birthday to Sean. I’m sure you spoiled him rotten on his day…
Thank you for this site… I, too, had heard the term and googled it and ended up on your site. I have had several dogs through out my life…but, Annika, my current dog…who is sooo special….she has taught me so many things, she is my heart dog.
Thanks for saying thanks!! 🙂 It’s always nice to hear from another person who enjoys a bond with a special dog.
My heart-dog was a retired racing Greyhound who I called Luke. When I met him, I didn’t particularly like dogs but my room-mate had put up with my four cats and the mess they’d make of the apartment for so long, when he started talking about how much he’d always wanted a dog but wouldn’t know how to take care of it or train him I sort of caved on the discussion.  And even though I was not a dog-fan, I had been brought up with hounds so I knew what to do and how to do it. I agreed I would “shop” for and take care of the dog, but the breed, sex, name, etc… would all have to be my choice.
Agreed.
A few weeks of Google (and using an online Breed Selector) and I was all but 100% sold on the Greyhound. The woman we adopted him from had a little farm out in the countryside, from which she made bi-monthly trips to and from an adoption kennel in the USA beside one of the tracks. We went to her farm, met her, and after she and I talked for a bit, she smiled at me and said she knew I’d be happy with almost any one of her dogs. She opened the kennel gate and this troop of Greyhounds came out.
There was one who was particularly striking, a huge (at least 115 lb) fawn boy who was not at all shy about coming up to the fence and sticking his nose through it to get a caress or two. Linda (my greyhound connection, lol) said she could see I was interested in him and that he was interested in me, but she said… “I know you’ve had dogs before, even some headstrong ones, but I’ll be honest with you, Hank here is what we used to call the kennel baby — he won a lot of prizes and his trainer and owner spoiled him rotten. He’s not really a good choice for someone who hasn’t been with dogs for a few years, so while i wouldn’t stop you it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t try to steer you away from him.”
And I thought how great that was; her “adoption fees” were not really huge, but yeah, she’d lose money if she didn’t adopt Hank.
And then he caught my eye. A shy looking red-brindle. “What about the brindle?”
“ßNow there’s a much better choice for you!â€
So for years I took care of this brindle greyhound — he got up with me every morning, faithful and true as any alarm clock; he’d hop up in the bed with me every night and stretch his long, lean body against me. As time passed I came to love him more and more, so much so that when the vet told me that he had an inoperable tumour of necrotic tissue in his lung my heart started to break because I knew I would be losing my best friend in 4-6 months.
I talked with my vet, and told him how much I didn’t want Luke to die on a cold metal table in his office, and we came to an agreement that when I felt the time was right, he would come out to the apartment and we’d do it there — that was a bit of a load of worry off of my mind.
A few weeks went by, and I noticed Luke was starting to cough more — but it’s not that bad, I’d tell myself, I’ll know when the time comes.
Two months of this, coughing, losing weight — but he still loves to go for walks and have talks and ear rubs, it’s not time yet I told myself.
Within 2 days of that little bit of self-delusion, my room mate came into my room at 3 a.m. — Pierce, something’s wrong with Luke. I went to Paul’s room where I found my beautiful boy unable to stand up, panting enough to warm the air in the room, and with a vacant look in his eyes — my heart boy had suffered a stroke.
All my good ideas of a peaceful passing at home for Luke evaporated and we were loading him up into a cab and off to the emergency vet clinic. He was up on the table within moments of our arrival there, and the vet did lots of stethoscoping and one quick x-ray, then asked me to sit down so we could talk.
Yes, Luke had had a major stroke. The necrotic tissue in his lung had finally fully died, but did not fall off the lung gently, and instead ripped the walls of the lung as it fell off — massive bleeding into the lung, lost too much blood. And that’s how he had the stroke.
The vet said they might be able to help him later in the morning when the surgeon came in, but for now it was just about making him comfortable. He asked me to stay with Luke as long as I possibly could.
So I sat beside Luke, played with his ears, rubbed the top of his head and his muzzle and paws, and talked. Told him what a good dog he’d been, what a great friend and companion, that I loved him more than anything and apologized to him that this ending hadn’t been exactly what I’d promised.
Called the vet back in and said, No, it’s time now. He shook my hand and said, “You’re one of the good ones who knows that this is about what’s right for your dog not what’s easy for you.†Might sound dumb, but I was sort of proud that he’d said that about me.
Sat there for a bit, and vet came back in with the tranquilizer. Luke relaxed and breathed easier. Spent another 10 minutes with him, just more of what we’d already done. Signalled the vet — Is it time? Yes.
The syringe with the overdose of anesthetic slipped into his shoulder and Luke slipped away with his head against my chest.
It wasn’t dying at home on his big pillow, no, but it was as comfortable as I could make it for him. For a few months afterwards I was angry with myself that I’d kept denying and delaying what I knew was coming, and that Luke ended up with the exact opposite of what I’d promised him.
But I have to take whatever comfort I can from knowing I made his passing as comfortable as the circumstances would alllow.
Pierce, my heart goes out to you. Your eloquent words make it so clear how much Luke meant to you and how difficult losing him was.
I wish you peace. I hope someday another lucky dog will own a small piece of your heart, although a large part will surely always belong to Luke.
Thank you Jenna. The reason I’ve been thinking so much about Luke lately is that I have been considering another dog — something still in the sighthound group, but a touch smaller… perhaps a whippet.
When I came across this term today on the internet I knew I had finally found the meaning of the relationship with Jackson and me. I went into a pet store 6 years ago, as I had done many times as it was next door to a favorite Mexican restaurant. But there he was, a black and white Cocker Spaniel and his brown and white sister. She was beautiful and I thought I wanted her because her color was so unusual. I ask the owner to let me play with them. We clicked, is the only way I can describe it, the black and white male. My husband had never had a dog inside his home but I sat him down and explained that I could not describe the connection I felt with this adorable dog and I had never wanted anything as much as this dog. He finally gave in and I bought him. I know how many feel about buying a dog from a pet store and I really don’t think he was from a puppy mill but a breeder. Nevertheless, he was already born and I “rescued” him and had him spayed so he will never contribute to the mill nightmare. I have had experienced the most unconditional love from Jackson. I know his barks, which one means someone is outside or it is a squirrel in the yard. I quit working to stay home and be a full time house wife and dog mom. He is my heart dog and I am so grateful we found each other. I am thankful I finally found a word for this relationship. I know some people will think this is weird but I know how I feel and it all comes down to unconditional love. We need more of it in this world. I really doubt I will ever have this bond with another animal, I hope I can, but it is doubtful.
I stumbled about this site today, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that Dexter is my heart dog. Dexter was my first foster dog. Dexter is a the most handsome long hair chi I have ever seen. Dex was eleven years old when he and a female chi, Duchess, were tossed out of a moving car. After realizing what the car in front of them had thrown out, some good Samaritans stopped and picked them up. They ended up with a rescue in Birmingham. When I decided I wanted to foster, I was given the choice of a few toy breed dogs, but there was just something about Dexter. You see, the vet thinks that Dex and Duchess were puppy mill dogs that could no longer produce, so they were discarded. Dexter’s testicles were so big that he walked (well, still walks) bow-legged. He had to have all but three of his teeth removed. He also has cataracts and bum knees. Duchess had many scars from multiple c-sections. When Dexter came to my house, he was terrified of everything. He hid behind the couch. He acted as if he had never seen grass. Bless his heart, he would shake, pant, and drool in fear when I turned on the washing machine. He was a mess. It took nearly a week before he came out from behind my couch. I wondered if Dex would ever “come around.” I gave him his space, and I would notice little improvements almost daily. He started to follow me around. Then, I could put my hand out, and he would sniff. We eventually became very comfortable with each other. It was the most amazing thing to watch him learn that not all people are bad and that belly rubs are fun and that grass and sunshine are really nice. It’s been two years out of the mill. Dexter is 13 and a half now. He may not have any teeth. He can’t really see the best. His knees are a wreck, but Dexter is absolutely perfect to me.
After a couple of years fostering puppy mill survivors, I can tell you that, yes, it is a lot of work gaining their love and trust, but I can honestly say it’s totally worth it. Once you’ve experienced what one of these guys can give, it’s absolutely incredible. Most have been through so much. They have had their bodies and spirits broken in the name of the almighty dollar, but they are so resilient. My God, are they resilient.
I understand that you feel that dogs aren’t children, but for me, mine are. I don’t have human children, and I really don’t want any. For me, they are my kids. I am responsible for them. They look to me for everything. I love them unconditionally. My love for them is just as strong as someone’s love for their human children. We were hit by those nasty storms that swept through the southeast earlier this week. My biggest concern was keeping Dexter and my other furkids safe. I was more concerned for their safety than I was for my own. Some people think that is crazy, but I made a promise to all of them that when I adopted them that they would have the life they should have had all along. I plan on keeping that promise. Dexter may have spend eleven long years in a puppy mill, but I plan on making the rest of his years with me as enjoyable for him as I can!
I have have had and lost 4 dogs in my life, all border collies. I got all as puppies and kept all until they crossed the rainbow bridge. The last one was extaordinary. I lost him last summer after 14 1/2 years. A year later, I still tear up thinking about him. I loved my other dogs, and missed them when they were gone, but not like I miss Rocket. He was my special guy. We played flyball together for several years and traveled around to attend various matches. I suppose this contributed to the bond – I didn’t do dog sports with my other dogs. I loved him and appreciated him all the while I had him, but it wasn’t until he was gone and I had to come to grips with the giant hole he left behind that I began to fully appreciate the full extent of what he meant to me. I don’t think it would have occurred to me to call Rocket a heart dog when he was alive, but I now that he is gone, I can certainly say, that Rocket was my heart dog – the first in over 40 years of having dogs. I am nearing the end of my ability to make a lifelong committment to a dog. I hope I’ll be lucky enough to find one more border collie that will turn out to be a second heart dog to accompany me as I travel toward the human rainbow bridge. The thing I hate most about growing old is knowing there will come a time when it won’t be practical or feasible to care for another dog, and that realy stinks, because one of the greatest joys in this life is having a wonderful dog.
Thank you for sharing with us about Rocket Sharon. I definitely agree with you about having a wonderful dog being one of the greatest joys in life.