For the Love of Odie Michael
His name was Odie Michael, though I mostly just called him Odie. If you know me well, you know that all my dogs have middle names—just like my kids. And just like with the kids, when I use the full name, they know I mean business! But with Odie, saying his full name out loud was never stern—it was a gentle reminder that he was loved. Honestly, I think he liked hearing it. Or at least that’s what I always told myself. (LOL.)
After my recent post, Surviving the Loss of Your Best Friend, many of you reached out asking about the dachshund in the picture. That was Odie. And while it’s still incredibly hard to talk about him without crying, I think it’s time to share a little more of our story. Because when I write, I try to write from the heart—and Odie will always be the very center of mine. He wasn’t just a dog. He was my Heart Dog.
I wasn’t sure I could write this post. The pain of losing him is still so raw, even after all this time. I think most of us, if we’ve been lucky enough, have had that one dog who leaves a mark so deep, so lasting, that we never quite recover. That was Odie for me.
Meet Odie
If you ask my family, Odie was my mid-life crisis. I had always wanted a miniature Dachshund, and one day, I saw an ad in the local newspaper. No one else in the house seemed as thrilled about the little guy as I was—but it didn’t matter. Odie was mine from the moment I saw him. He became my shadow, my sunshine, my tiny best friend.
He was with me for more than 16 years. Sixteen years of being my constant through every joy, every sorrow, every messy in-between. He was there while I raised three boys. And when they left home, he stayed, helping fill the quiet that came with an emptying nest. He was by my side when grandchildren arrived, always happy to join in their giggles and games. He sat with me during some of my loneliest days—especially during my youngest son’s deployment. Even when the house was full of people, I sometimes felt completely alone. But not with Odie. He grounded me with his presence. I’d talk to him like he was human, and he’d look back at me with those big, knowing eyes—as if he truly understood.
My Constant Companion
As an introvert, Odie was my safe place. My sounding board. My comfort. I could be completely myself with him. Looking back, I honestly don’t know how I would have gotten through certain chapters of life without him. It might sound odd to some, but it’s the truth.
He was my anchor—small, stubborn, snuggly, and completely irreplaceable. It’s amazing how someone so tiny could fill up so much space in a life. His love never wavered. I didn’t have to earn it, and I never worried about losing it. I could always count on him. Always.
The Loss
It’s been three years now since I had to say goodbye to him, and yet I still catch myself listening for his little feet on the floor or glancing over to his favorite spot by the window. I remember the feel of his fur, the comforting weight of him snuggled beside me, and even his smell—that warm, familiar scent that only dog lovers truly understand.
The ache hasn’t really gone away. It’s quieter some days, but it’s always there. The tears still come, sometimes out of nowhere. They’re not always sad—often they’re filled with gratitude. Gratitude that I got to love a soul like his, that I got to be the one he followed from room to room, the one he trusted completely.
If I had the chance, I’d grieve all over again just to have one more day with him. That’s how much he meant to me.
Opening My Heart Again
Sometimes, when we lose a dog that meant everything to us, we feel guilty even thinking about getting another. I’ve felt that. Like maybe I was betraying Odie by opening my heart to someone new. But guilt has no place in love. What we feel so deeply when they’re gone—that aching emptiness—is actually proof that we’re capable of loving again. Not in the same way, of course. No one could ever be Odie. But the love he gave me left behind something beautiful: the ability to love more, not less.
The truth is, I didn’t just miss Odie—I missed the connection. That sacred, soul-deep bond that only dogs can give. And when that’s gone, you don’t just miss their face or their footsteps—you miss being known in that special way.
Eventually, another little dog came into my life. Her name is Emmy Sue. And while she’s not Odie, she doesn’t have to be. She’s Emmy, and she’s reminded me that loving again doesn’t replace the love you lost—it honors it. She helped me laugh again, smile again, and find comfort in the chaos of life. I think Odie would’ve loved her. And maybe, in some way, he sent her to me—knowing I needed her.
A Final Thought
Even though I’ve had to say goodbye to more dogs than I wish, and each one has left a hole in my heart, I believe there’s always another soul out there waiting. Not to fill the hole, but to bring their own kind of light into the darkness.
Love doesn’t have a limit. It grows, stretches, makes space. And every time I welcome a new dog into my life, I carry Odie with me. I see him in the way I speak softly to a scared rescue, or in the way I laugh when one of them does something ridiculous. He taught me how to love dogs well—and how to let them love me in return.
So if you’re missing your heart dog today, I see you. I truly do. And if you’re wondering whether your heart can handle loving again, I can promise you this: it can. And when the time is right, you’ll know. Because sometimes, the best way to honor the one you lost… is to give that same love to someone who needs it just as much as you do.
For more encouraging words on coping with the loss of your furry friend, please read my post, Surviving the Loss of Your Best Friend.
