Dog Twitter

We have made the jump. Our family will welcome our next puppy in a week. This is scary and exciting and more than a little overwhelming. Emilia’s arrival will prompt a change in the Twitter name I’ve had for so long. But before I make the change, I want to share a few thoughts. A bit of history.

Summer of 2011. I was standing firm, trying not to join social media–missing family news because I wasn’t on Facebook. In the way that I look at the world through the lens of academia, Facebook sounded like a giant campus with too many buildings. And I didn’t really care to reconnect with the cousin of the husband of a girl I went to high school with. Still don’t. I wanted something smaller. Something safer.

So, I thought, what if I get a Twitter for my dog? Abby, my sweet, amazing golden retriever, was eight years old at the time. Where I went, she went. So we decided we’d go on Twitter. I felt silly at first. Who’s going to talk to a dog on social media? Even a dog so full of personality?

Then, she got a few followers. DOG followers. Others who, like me, had tested the waters with the help of their canine life rings. Then, more followers. And thus began our life on Dog Twitter.

Abby was among a generation of dogs that grew together. Imaginary road trips to Tim Horton’s and Starbucks, debating whether it was safer to allow a young golden doodle pup to drive the car, or let one of the seniors risk the road.

Through these dog connections, human connections grew. Holiday cards, birthday wishes, and picture after picture of our furry friends.

Our dogs grow older, new puppies join families. We laugh together, share ideas, cheer each other on. We worry together over mysterious lump biopsies, share the joy when it isn’t the C word. We cry for each other when it is. We are from many different countries, but when one of our pups crosses the Rainbow Bridge, the miles disappear, and we are one in heartbreak. Sometimes we just exist in cyberspace to prop one another up.

When Abby crossed the bridge, I kept her Twitter open because I grew to love her friends, and I needed to see dogs. A year later, Frasier joined our family, and his brief time here was full of photos of a beautiful soul lost too soon. His pictures and stories are still too heartbreaking to share. If I can say one thing it’s this–know your breeder–puppy mills are everywhere, and they are evil. Okay, two things, because I know this is important–thousands of dogs need homes and rescues have the biggest hearts and will love you forever. Okay, one more. Pick the dog that fits your life. And that is all.

Now it’s a little over five years since we lost Frasier. We have opened the rusty doors of our hearts to Emilia. From the first time we met her on Facetime at three weeks old, she has wrapped us around her tiny paw. I don’t know what it was about this particular puppy that helped us make the decision. She’s just right. Everything fell into place with odd coincidences and perfect timing. I guess one could say she found us.

It hurts my heart to change Abby’s Twitter name, but I suppose it’s time. I’ll have enough trouble not calling Emilia “Abby.” Maybe that’s why I picked this name. If I mess up and call her Abby, it sounds a little like Emmy. Dogs tend to respond to treats and tone anyway.

Dogs never truly leave us. Just like we’ll always find stray hairs on random sweaters in the closet, and poo bags stashed in any pocket, tote bag, or other place we might need one, they’ll always be nearby. A shadow in the hallway, a rainbow reflection through a chandelier, the sound of jingling tags we know we heard.

So . . . if you’re following me for dog stuff, there will be plenty. In fact, I guess I’ll have to use my own Twitter for book and writing posts, or they’ll be buried in puppy paparazzi. Feel free to follow that one–@jloccowrites.

If you’re reading this, the Tesla gods smiled on me and the change in handle name didn’t send our Twitter followers into a black hole. See you on Dog Twitter.