Our Brave Companions Who Never Let Us Down

April 21, 2025•Tommy Hough

Dear Mr. Zwickel,

A friend and fellow outdoorsman posted your Seattle Times piece about your wonderful friend Edison on their social media over the weekend, and I just wanted to write, as I expect others have, to let you know how much your piece affected me, and how much I could relate to that grief — especially after losing someone like Edison that you shared so many fantastic outdoor adventures with around our American west. Life-affirming and sad at the same time.

Your piece reminded me of a poem I once read in an animal hospital waiting room in San Diego, and I wish I could recall the verse or author, but it was about how humans and dogs are both “trapped” together in this plane of existence where our lives intersect, but they intersect imperfectly for only a few years before their shorter lifespans inexorably draw to a close. It’s sad, of course, because we have to say goodbye to them and they hopefully are able to say goodbye to us. Even as their life, and our life together comes to an end, ours goes on alone. That sense of loss and not being able to find our way is terribly profound.

This is a very human way of looking at it, but I was once told that dogs’ short lifespan is the reason they’re often so happy when they’re with their favorite human(s) — because they enjoy every moment when one day to us is like a week in their lives. Perhaps they understand that, perhaps they don’t.

There’s something so mysterious about the connection between humans and dogs, and no matter where I am in my life it’s always stuck with me. I’m reminded of the wonderful dogs my family and I had when I was a kid, how they protected me without me even realizing it, how they were always there, always happy, always eager to play, until one day after I’d left home and moved on with my life I learned they were gone. While they were with my parents until the end, I still hope they weren’t alone or scared when they died. I hope they felt loved. I wonder about who will remember our dogs and their lives after I’m gone — which of course dovetails into who will remember us after we’re gone.

My wife and I have two shihtzus. They’re wonderful friends and companions, but not exactly outdoor dogs like Edison. But sometimes when we’re out walking, or late at night in a quiet corner of our house by a window, my younger shihtzu will sit and howl during a full moon, or when she hears the faraway cries of coyotes, or when the mournful sound of a siren comes nearby. She howls, and like the Courtland Winslow Hunter and the Dog Star illustration I wonder what she remembers, who she cries to in the night, who she has connected with over the miles and planes of existence, who she senses but can never meet or touch.

Thanks again for sharing your story about your friend Edison, and all the wonderful photos — like rays of Pacific Northwest sunshine, all very special moments. Love the Alpine Lakes, love Mt. St. Helens.

All the best,

Tommy

Jonathan Zwickel’s essay A Writer Looks Ahead to a Life of Adventures Without Man’s Best Friend appeared in the April 19, 2025, issue of the Seattle Times.