I Have a Dog-shaped Hole in My Heart
Remembering Hobbes, a master instructor
Look at that photo! Not staged. Not doctored. Not photoshopped. Not AI-generated. 100% natural Hobbes. This is 2-year-old Hobbes with his favorite toy. That bear is the “totem” I’ve chosen to remember Hobbes by. It is now sitting in my office.
I was the last kid my parents had to ship off to college. I was ready for the college experience, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to my parents. I was always very attached to my parents … strike 1. I am also a somewhat emotional person … strike 2. And then there was the fact that I was last in line … Mom and Pop’s final farewell … strike 3.
Friday night we loaded up the van. Saturday morning, the three of us set out on the four hour drive from Richmond to Blacksburg. We chatted the whole time about school and the different friends of mine that would also be at Virginia Tech. This dialogue was all part of their plan to get me more ready for being without them. They had a plan for this whole day. And not filling me in on their plan was actually part of the plan (foreshadowing).
We unpacked the van and they helped me get all settled in to 609 Lee Hall. Then we drove off campus to get lunch. Over pizza, our conversation continued, but now there was a sadness entering the conversation. We knew that soon enough Mom and Pop would have to hit the road for the four hour return trip. I started doing the mental arithmetic and figured in another hour they’d be gone. I was getting quiet.
After lunch, we climbed back in the van and started heading back to Lee Hall. As we approached my part of campus, Pop said, “This move-in traffic is way worse now. Son, I don’t think we’re gonna be able to park by your dorm. Heck, I don’t even think we can get back down that road.” There was a pause. I was at immediate attention … and alarm. Pop looked at Mom and said, “Cookie, we’re gonna have to say our goodbyes here.” Then they both looked back at me.
I stumbled. I stalled. “Uhhh … uhhhhhhh.” Mom gestured me forward. There was room enough in the van for me to basically kneel right between them. I gave Pop a hug. I started crying. I gave Mom a hug. I started balling. We exchanged our “love you”s. Then I stepped out of the van onto the sidewalk, shut the door behind me, and watched as the van drove away. I kept my head down as I walked back to Lee Hall, keeping the tears to myself.
When I saw them again a few months later, I commented on the need for us to do better at goodbyes than my unceremonious college drop off. That’s when Mom and Pop explained how intentional that was. Pop told me that on move-in day, when I got up to use the bathroom at lunch, he told Mom, “There’s no way that actually leaving Jeff is going to be easy. He’s already showing us that. We have to have a clean break or we’ll never get out of here.” Mom concurred, and the executed their plan to perfection. It sucked in the moment, but there was no way for that moment to not suck. So the point was, don’t prolong the suck.
Today, as I reflect on the abruptness of Hobbes’ exit, I’m remembering my college move in experience and wondering if my parents had shared their pro-tip with Hobbes.
Just after midnight on Monday, Hobbes had his first seizure. 84 hours later, Hobbes left us. Hobbes never gave us any medical drama. For 13 years, he’d been a healthy dog. So when the four of us left the vet on Thursday morning and sent the news out to our family and friends, there was widespread shock. “What happened?” “That came out of nowhere.” “He was fine last week.”
There is tremendous sadness at the loss of Hobbes. But I’m thankful that the suck happened quickly. We only had to see our doggie struggle for a couple of days. When it comes to dying, fast beats slow.
I am inexpressibly appreciative of all that Hobbes brought into our lives. Hobbes taught us how to be better humans. Here are the ten Hobbes lessons I valued most, in no particular order, other than saving the best for last.
Don’t just help one person … help everyone you meet
Our original motivation for getting a dog was to be a buddy and grounding force for our younger son, Drew. Drew’s blend of Bogdan and Kalyan energy gave him some unique challenges growing up. His written response to a prompt in 4th grade captures it best. Prompt: “What does ‘ready to learn’ mean to you?” Drew: “I think ‘ready to learn’ means to not talk but listen, not to be wild but calm, not be loud but silent. BUT you might be so silent that you burst up in flames at recess.”
As parents of energetic boys, we already had a full plate just with their activities. But we accepted the challenge of adding a dog into the mix because we saw the opportunities for helping our kids. We continued to be surprised, every day, that Hobbes wasn’t just there for Drew, he was there for Luke … and Charu and I … and our extended family … and our friends.
Hobbes was there for everybody. There was no shortage of cuddles, tail wags, licks, and grabs.
Stop and sit
As we were driving home from the vet, I asked the family, “What is the biggest thing that Hobbes taught you?” No one answered that question at the time. It wasn’t a time for much talking. But later that evening we came back to the question. Charu, Luke, and I all had the same answer. Hobbes taught us to stop. If you were at your desk for too long, Hobbes would let you know that enough was enough. He’d walk over to you, stop, and look up at you. Then he’d wait.
It was a brilliant tactic. His cuteness won most of the time. You could reach down and pet him a little bit, or you could use that as an excuse to get some quality cuddle time with Hobbes and either sit on the floor with him or move over to a couch or chair that he would then join you on.
When I was working at Microsoft, my morning routine was rock solid1. I was up at 6am and out the door at 6:20am. At 6:30, I was sitting in my writing chair at work doing my daily writing block2. And for the first year after Microsoft, I kept a very similar morning routine. I just replaced the office with the treehouse3. Then, last year, I decided to move my office from the treehouse to the actual house.
For years I had had complete control over my morning. I decided when I was going to have my first interaction of the day. Now, with my office being inside my home, that was something I no longer controlled. Now, about midway into my 60min writing session, I would hear the clicking of Hobbes’ nails on the hardwood as he pranced towards my office. Hobbes was the second one awake in the house, and he was in search of the first one … me.
Initially, I was bothered by this. I was so dependent on my isolated ritual of 10min stretch, then 20min workout, then 60min writing, that I felt thrown off by Hobbes’ intrusion. Over time, though, I realized this was his first greeting of the day … and mine … and it should be savored. That’s when this intrusion turned into a beautiful ritual:
As soon as I hear his prance, I step to the side of my desk so he could see me. I kneel down and open my arms and say, “Good morning Hobbesey.” He walks up to me just far enough for my hands to reach him. When my hands reach the back of his head, he sits down so that he can pull his head back against my fingers as I massage the back of his head and his neck. When I stop, that’s his cue to get up and walk straight into me. Then I lean over him and pet him from head to toe, massaging his sides and telling him that he’s such a good boy. And as I’m doing this, he’s nuzzling into my legs and rubbing the sides of his head on me. His taile is helicoptering at 1,000rpms for this entire exchange.
This morning when I woke up, I experienced for the first time, an uninterrupted morning routine. I didn’t like it one bit. And now I’m getting ready for a full day without any of Hobbes’ welcome interruptions, such as him joining me for my morning coffee and read.
Thank you, Hobbes, for reminding me of the importance of being in the present tense.
Be gentle
Drew’s answer to my “biggest thing that Hobbes taught you” question was, “Be more gentle.” Drew is our “bull in a china shop” son, and we all kid him about it to this day. When we first got Hobbes, Drew had to learn very quickly how to be gentle with this weeks-old puppy. The more time Drew spent with Hobbes, the more instruction he was getting, in the form of immediate feedback from Hobbes. Hobbes was a loving dog, but he wasn’t afraid to let you know when you were annoying him. Drew learned that signal earliest.
Drew and Hobbes had their share of on periods and off periods. Their bond wasn’t immediate. It grew steadily over time. Where they ended up is what matters: they ended up true brothers.
Be aware of when others need care
Hobbes knew when you weren’t doing well. Bodily injuries are obvious, but Hobbes was equally aware of the internal aches. If your belly was upset, or if you were having an especially blue day, Hobbes was first on the scene. He’d hop on the couch next to you and lean against you. You could pet him as much as you wanted. He wasn’t going anywhere!
We got to return this favor in Hobbes final hours, when he was the one that needed care. The only way Hobbes could sleep on his final night was by being held. Good thing there were four of us to do the rotation. Here’s my 4am cuddle … one of my last good cuddles with Hobbes.
Thank you Hobbes for showing us how to take care of you.
You’re never too old to learn
Drew taught Hobbes how to “shake” at age 10.
Charu taught Hobbes how to “fetch” at age 11.
Never stop learning4.
Stay active
There was no stopping Hobbes. In his final hour, he had enough energy for one last family walk.
Stay vigilant
Even when he’s tucked into his favorite spot on the bed, Hobbes remains on the lookout.
Travel together
As the African proverb goes, “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”
Hobbes didn’t always enjoy the travel part, but if it meant being together, he was all in.
He was also smart about making sure he was included in trips. His favorite tactic was to block the exit.
Kill them with kindness
If Hobbes liked a food, he learned the sound that the container for that food made when it was picked up, when it was put down, when it was opened, and when it was dispensed. He wasn’t a bully about it. He would simply show up and stand in your field of vision. You knew what to do after that. After all, he had trained you well.
Be the Hobbes you want to feel in the house
And now for the best that I saved for last. Thank you Hobbes for teaching us how to properly greet each other!
It has been said many ways, because it is universally true. Dogs are the best greeters. Regardless of the day you’ve had, or any household drama that has unfolded in previous days or weeks, when you walk in the door, you are guaranteed one thing … your dog will greet you and love you.
At dinner on last night, I said to the family, “To keep Hobbes’ spirit alive in our family, we now all have to be each other’s Hobbes. When anyone comes in the house, give them a Hobbes-worthy greeting.” Charu said, “Well, I won’t lick your face, but I can do the rest.” It will be impossible to hit this consistently. But whenever we do, Hobbes will be smiling … and so will our family. I gave Charu a big hug when she woke up this morning. And I gave Luke a big hug when I saw him this afternoon. So I’m off to a good start!
This was Hobbes’ favorite perch in the house. From this couch back, he could see the front door. He was at the ready for his next greeting. It didn’t matter if you were family, friend, or a stranger, Hobbes’ one rule was, “If you are coming in the house, then you are getting a greeting.” If you made him wait too long, the whining would start. But he wasn’t whining for him. He was whining for you. “Come here and get some of this. You know you need it.”
Among the thoughts shared by our many friends and family, this was my favorite. “Please let me be the person my dog thinks I am.” I’m better for having known Hobbes, and now it’s my duty to live up to the bar he set.
Footnotes 🐾
Hobbesey was one of a kind. I will miss him so much 💔