Grateful for My Puppy Buddies on #NationalDogDay

Piper and Toby my Forever Friends

There’s a bench on the Indian Rock Trail at Sanborn Skyline Park in the Santa Cruz Mountains that means the world to me. It’s a quiet place overlooking the trees – a place to rest, to reflect, and to be grateful. The little plaque on the bench reads, “Toby and Piper – Happy Trails.” It honors the two Cardigan Welsh Corgis who were my daily hiking buddies for over fifteen years.

Toby and Piper weren’t just dogs. They were a promise and a commitment I made when they were pups: We will walk every day, no matter what. And we did. Rain or heat, groggy mornings or long work days, I laced up my hiking boots and took to the trail with them, always. It was for their health, yes, but also for mine — body, mind, and soul.

The Rhythm of Devotion

We hiked before my commute. We hiked before email. We hiked before anything else. In a world full of busyness and deadlines, those walks grounded me in joy and simplicity. They reminded me to pause. To breathe. To notice the hawk overhead or the dew on the grass.

Toby was the old soul. Piper was the spark. Together, they led me through chapters of life, always asking nothing more than to go, to sniff, to walk… and to be together.

When Piper passed away about 18 months ago, the silence was unbearable. I had already lost Toby, and now both were gone. No more wagging tails. No more early-morning panting at the door. No more joyus leaps onto the bed. No more puppy sleeping on my pillow. My companions of so many miles had moved on, and I was left standing still.

I knew another dog would come, eventually. But not yet. First, I needed a truck again — our faithful old one had broken down just after Piper passed. Then came the miracle truck… and the accident that took it away before the next chapter could begin.

Enter Ghost

And then, in a way I never expected, a dog did come. Our daughter moved home and brought with her a tiny rescue pup named Ghost. At nine pounds, Ghost is smaller than three of our four cats. He spent his early life in fear, tucked away from the world. Our daughter carried him everywhere, gently teaching him that life could be safe again.

Now, with time and love, Ghost has blossomed. He walks beside me on the same trails Toby and Piper once led. He’s cautious, yes, but also brave. He can hike three miles! During the day he keeps me company — curling up next to me, sleeping under my desk,charming everyone he meets, becoming a sweet, steady presence in my day.

I never expected my next trail companion to come so soon, or be so small. But Ghost is a gift. A new kind of miracle. A reminder that companionship doesn’t always arrive how you expect, but it always arrives when your heart is ready.

Happy Trails, Still

The bench at Sanborn reminds me of the miles we’ve already walked. Ghost reminds me that the journey isn’t over.

Dogs don’t just give us loyalty and laughter. They give us rhythm, ritual, and purpose. They wake us up, pull us outside, and keep us grounded in the present. They teach us to greet the day with enthusiasm, to sniff everything (just in case), and to rest without guilt.

Today, I am grateful for the dogs who walked with me, the dog who walks with me now, and the future paws I’ll welcome one day when the time is right.

To Toby and Piper: Happy trails, always. To Ghost: Thank you for walking beside me now.