The Dog Blog with Kathryn Socie

When Co-dependence Works

By Kathryn Socie, 8-08-08

Would it be too weird to show up at a twelve-step program for codependence with my dog?  Not that I would even think of getting help. We’re so mired, the dog and I, in deep co-dependent bliss, that I absolutely don’t want what we have to change.  Ever.  We are, however, both miserably unhappy without our “other” around and preferably within close proximity. I need to be needed and he needs to be needy.  Our relationship is, by all accounts, perfect in this way, however dysfunctional.

A border collie-some-sorta-cow-dog cross, Walker and I came together by chance circumstances some seven years ago.  His former owner* was involved in an accident, left bed-ridden, and opted to surrender his beloved dog to the Humane Society.  Theirs was a sad parting for sure and this kind gent made weekly checks to keep tabs on things— a wonderful example of a good person who cared very much, turning to a shelter for a completely valid reason and in the best interest of his animal.  Contrary to what many may think, shelters aren’t always dumping grounds for problem critters and/or heartless owners. 

Despite all good intentions, Walker is the best example of the worst kind of dog for interim kennel living.  He needs to do, to go, to move, but most importantly he needs to be close to someone; all things very much not a part of shelter life. Stress gets him cranked, making him ten times wilder than your average over-the-top border collie.  No doubt, he was passed over.  For months.  Actually, for almost five months.  His mental health and happiness were called into question on many occasions; the dog was textbook kennel crazy—pacing non-stop, barking constantly, spinning in circles. He was totally, utterly, absolutely depressed. A wreck, really.

For reasons too numerous to list, we were in the same boat.  We rescued each other.

Dogs certainly have an awareness far exceeding our expectations, so I think its possible Walker understood the gravity of his situation. After all, when we finally met, I was just going to take him for a walk, give him a break, allow him a little time out of his version of hell. Totally dubious that this dog had the ability to reign-in his insanity, after only a few minutes together it was clear he understood his job perfectly. And he was grateful. He watched my every move, listened to my every word, heeded every request; he was a totally composed gentleman. And he was joyful.  Joyful in a way I was desperate for, the way only dogs can be.  He carried an air of: “I can prove to you I am yours.” And he did.

Little did I know, this was all part of the honeymoon period.  Once he got comfy with things, Walker became his true punk self, revealing his penchant for herding just about anything (duh) and the challenges of living with a super high energy dog (one that’s not trying to impress me anyway). Despite the bait and switch, Walker is my # 1 dog, and I don’t mean that in the cheesy t-shirt and mug variety.  If you have two dogs, you probably know what I’m talking about.  If you don’t, it’s a little harder to get, even harder to explain.  It has more to do with roles than rank.  Number 1 dog has a profound sense of emotional responsibility and as a result pays close attention to their person, has a deeper need to be with him/her and is impacted heavily by even subtle changes.  Number 2 dog, in my experience, is laid back, easy-going, comic relief—they’re a nice balance.  The relationships are different and neither is more or less important than the other.

Still, as hard as it can be some days, I love my co-dependent.  Finding Walker and giving him a chance was the best fifteen minute decision I’ll ever make.

* Note: A fabulous conversation was had with Walker’s former owner following the adoption in which I shared many tales of new-found happiness (mine and the dog’s)-- it was a tear-jerker.

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