Back in December, I lost my best friend.

My shadow.

My rock.

We had 8 years of adventures together.

Since then, I’ve been telling myself this is my grind era—the time in life when I’m least tethered.

No girlfriend.

No dog.

Just me,

the startup,

the day job,

and helping my family through their own mental health struggles.

I convinced myself that loneliness was just part of the equation. That it would just be normal in this era of my life.

But something didn’t sit right.

That something manifested as aching loneliness.

Loneliness is an unpleasant emotional response to perceived or actual isolation. Loneliness is also described as social pain – a psychological mechanism that motivates individuals to seek social connections. It is often associated with a perceived lack of connection and intimacy. Loneliness overlaps and yet is distinct from solitude.

Solitude is simply the state of being apart from others; not everyone who experiences solitude feels lonely.

As a subjective emotion, loneliness can be felt even when a person is surrounded by other people.

And to be honest, many times in the past 8 months I’ve felt really alone.

I missed having a consistent teammate.

Yes there are friends, and I am very lucky to have loving and supportive friends. I am grateful to my community.

But consistent love at home is different.

Nibbler provided that to me like nothing else in the world.

Someone who was there for the wins and the losses.

The seriousness and the silliness.

The ups, the downs.

Who didn’t need me to explain, or be perfect.

Just, consistent love.

A consistent teammate.

I missed that… and I was determined to do something about it.

“It’s a tradeoff I’m willing to make short term, for longer term fulfillment” — My mindWhen I lost him, it felt like I lost the only being in life I could truly rely on.

Here’s wiki’s definition:

I love my solitude—I like doing things alone.

But I didn’t want to feel like I am alone.

The Almost Foster Fail

In May, I fostered a pup named Buzz.

I was cautious.

I thought maybe I was just trying to avoid my loneliness.

And I wanted to be sure that this wasn’t just a reaction in grief in losing Nibbler.

I had anxiety about whether a dog would throw my whole routine off.

I’m bootstrapping a startup, working a demanding job, rock climbing training, trail running towards a 100 mile race, and generally trying hard at improving myself everyday.

But during that week with Buzz, I was so happy and content.

A friend told me I smiled more.

I laughed more.

It stoked a fire that had laid dormant for months.

My Dog Dad fire. 😂

I have such a strong identity as a Dog Dad. It’s corny, but it’s also true. It’s so true that I have it on my LinkedIn for Nibbler.

I nearly “Foster Failed” with Buzz—when someone fostering a pet while it waits for its forever home, adopts the pet instead.

Then, Buzz was adopted by a lovely family.

He went to great home. I was happy for him.

Then, Buzz was gone.

And I sat with the silence again for a couple of months.

I just… listened.

I took note of my productivity, my mental clarity, my emotional state.

And what I heard was clear:

I’m ready.

After many nights scrolling Petfinder and questioning my decision-making…

I adopted a buddy.

Meet Kenji.

The shelter told me he’s some sort of Belgian Malinois, Border Collie, Australian Shepherd mutt.

He’s amazing.

And to be honest with you?

All that anxiety?

It was noise.

Raising Nibbler and Poppy taught me how to do this. I’ve been here—juggling a demanding ambitious career and being the best dog dad.

Of course I have the capacity.

Of course I have the systems.

Of course I have the discipline.

Obviously I could raise a puppy and juggle a demanding life. I’ve done it before, as a less skilled individual.

Of course I can do it now.

I am more skilled now than ever.

My anxiety and perfectionism got the best of me, and I had many wasted hours of rumination on this topic.

What I didn’t have… was a consistent teammate.

And now I do.

I’ve had Kenji for about 10 days. It’s been such a joy to train and love him.

Here’s him going down the stairs. It’s adorable.

Stairs round 2.

Kenji has become a morning bird like me.

It’s pretty normal for us to have a dog dad training break at 4 AM at the park.

Fetch, recall drills, walking, bonding.

I’m even getting him into hiking so hopefully he can eventually go on long trail runs with me.

His little legs are learning.

And my heart feels full.

Here’s the wild part…

I’m actually more productive now.

Because I want to be a great dog dad, I’ve become even more rigorous with my time, discipline, and energy.

Kenji forces me to be present.

And when I do that? My whole life levels up!

I really enjoy it.

It works well for me.

To prioritize what matters.