My Belle

In the late spring or early summer of 2015, a rescue organization contacted me about a young German Shepherd who needed a home. A few weeks earlier, I had met with the organization’s founders and told them that German Shepherds had become my favorite breed.

Belle had belonged to an elderly couple. At six months old, she had become more than they could manage, and they were looking to rehome her. The rescue knew how I felt about German Shepherds. They asked if my wife and I might take her.

Belle looking at the water

Be the person your dog thinks you are.

My wife wasn’t sure she wanted another dog. We had recently adopted a big dog, and she worried about the work of caring for two. We agreed to foster Belle. By the end of the first day, I was smitten. A week later, after a little convincing, my wife and I decided she was staying.

Hiking with Belle in Wisconsin

Belle was sassy and talkative, and before long she belonged to us as surely as any of us did. She was unlike the other dogs we’d brought home. She was clever, but she could be a lot to handle. When she misbehaved, we tried pennies in a can to startle her. She didn’t care. We tried water in a spray bottle. She thought it was a treat. Belle made the rules. We did our best to keep her busy.

Belle in the backyard

A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than she loves herself.

Food was the way to Belle’s heart, and training came easily. She took several classes with my wife and excelled in all of them.

At home, she talked all day. Every grocery bag and every box had to be inspected. Leave an Amazon box within reach and she would tear it to pieces.

Camping with Belle

Water was where Belle was happiest. She splashed in rivers and lakes, learned to dock jump, and became an excellent swimmer.

She loved getting in the truck for a long hike. We walked trails at Minnesota state parks and returned often to the Jensen Lake Trail in Lebanon Hills Regional Park. She was a good hiking companion, though a powerful one. If a scent caught her attention, she would put her weight behind following it.

Belle at Lake Maud

In the backyard, she played soccer with her favorite ball. She would dribble it across the grass, then bark for us to throw it so she could dribble it back. When she got tired, she drank from the hose or the sprinkler.

When I began working from home five years ago, Belle acquired a new title: branch manager. My wife called her that because she spent so much time in my office. She would arrive after breakfast and make sure I took my breaks and ate lunch.

When my father died, Belle seemed to know. She would come and sit beside me, keeping watch while I cried. I held her as I mourned. She looked at me, and in that look was the comfort I needed: I’ve got you. She was a faithful companion and a true friend.

A dog is the only thing that can mend a crack in your broken heart.

Chilling at the river with mom

You imagine how you’ll spend the last days with your dog. Steak dinners. Old walks. Treats for no reason. You imagine having time to do those things.

But we don’t always get to choose.

Belle declined quickly. She stopped eating. Within days of our visit to the vet, she could no longer walk. We had to say goodbye on Wednesday afternoon, September 2, 2026. Her family was with her. She was loved by all of us, deeply and completely.

In those last days, I understood that I had never deserved such a wonderful dog. I hadn’t always seen what a gift she was. I hadn’t always given her the patience and grace she deserved. But she loved me all the same, without condition.

I will miss her for the rest of my life.

Belle camping at the river

Dogs have a way of finding the people who need them and filling an emptiness we didn't ever know we had.