“None of us are worthy of our dogs. But we can try.” –Rick Bass

They steal our hearts and our time with them is always too short. I think it is fair to say that I am who I am today thanks, in great part, to the dogs that have touched my life.

I shared this thought with two friends who recently lost their dogs. Unfortunately, I know that words were unable to fill the void that exists for them. However, I hope they did provide some solace.

It is one of the most hollow feelings I know, this loss. It is heartrending. While listening to each friend talk about the loss of his faithful companion, I found myself reliving the loss of each of mine. Why are the memories of this loss so vivid?

It is as if I am there. I am standing astraddle my bicycle looking back as I see Big Ben turning in slow motion in the air as the car flies past and then stops. Too big for me to carry, I carry him until I can’t, lay him at the edge of the dirt road, and sob as I ride home to get my dad. We buried him on the hill beside the pond. There would never be another like him and although there was not, there was.

Katie was a petite English shepherd, black with tan markings, roughly half the size of my German shepherd/collie mix Big Ben – picture a German shepherd the color of a collie and then give him every quality from the best dog movies and books you have ever seen and read. He was “Old Yeller” and “My Dog Skip” rolled into one, but Katie was smarter.

I swear she could actually climb a ladder. It is the only way I have of explaining how she appeared in the loft atop a stack of hay the day we were unloading and stacking bales in the barn.

These two dogs are representative of my youth, they are the bookends that contain the volumes of my journey toward manhood. When Katie met her end at the bumper of car, she somehow managed to run home. She died in my arms and as I write this the tears flow down my face just like they did that day with Katie lying across my lap.

Fast forward several years and I am crying with my wife after we lost our golden retriever Parker. I remember Gena saying that she could not bear the silence of not hearing Parker’s toenails click across our hardwood floors.

Parker had been a birthday gift from Gena when we were dating in college. She was our camping and hiking companion and she marked the beginning of our lives together as a couple, as newlyweds, and as parents. She welcomed both of our children home from the hospital when they were born.

The “toenail silence” was short-lived, as we soon welcomed Gracie and, shortly thereafter, Mack into our family. The two goldens were there as our children grew into young adults. They were there for the teenage drama, the driving lessons, the college visits, the graduations. They were even there to welcome a new canine member into our family, a German shorthaired pointer named Moose.

Sadly, we buried both Gracie and Mack the summer our son graduated high school and left for college. It was a gut punch. Our depression was deep and was only overshadowed by Moose’s. He had lost his buddies (or his buddy – Gracie really only tolerated him). We soothed the ache by driving to Hytop, Alabama, to find the newest member of the Dye clan, Murphy the Golden retriever.

The joy our dogs give us is the only balm to the pain of their loss. I’ve lost them due to accidents, cancer, and old age and, to be honest, one hurts just as bad as the other. The pain never goes away; however, my life is better for having had each of them in it.

At one time I worried that my dogs would not be with me in heaven, then I found the words of Billy Graham. “God will prepare everything for our perfect happiness in heaven, and if it takes my dog being there, I believe he’ll be there,” he said, and that’s good enough for me.

Some of my earliest outdoor memories are with Big Ben roaming the fields, woods, and creeks behind my house, now I roam different woods with Moose and Murphy. I have never been without a dog and I never will be. I look forward to seeing you (and your dog) out there in our great outdoors!

Email Outdoors columnist Brad Dye at braddye@comcast.net.