A Letter to My Dog (and Inner Child)

Discovering your Inner Child and Joy Through Puppies and Play

My Dear sweet boy,

I love you. Both of you.

I love how, with you, my inner child gets to come out and play. Gets to squeal in delight — “I have a doggy!” — like it’s the greatest thing in the world.

Because once upon a time, there was no such warmth. No companion waiting. No one home.

You would have loved this, little one. You would have loved him. The adventures, the muddy paws, the endless wanderings with no real destination — just joy.

We get to live that now.

I didn’t ask for you. I wasn’t looking. But when I first saw your picture, I knew your name, Cosmo — it was in your eyes. You were abandoned in the backcountry of Texas.

Like I was.

The lone brown kid in the one street light town of Podunk, Texas. Who didn’t know his extended family. His language. Trying to figure out where I fit in, without anyone to show me how.

You found your way to me for a reason.

I remember looking into your limitless eyes one morning and asking God,

“Why is he here? Why have you brought him to me?

I didn’t get an answer.

But I am beginning to learn.

I am finding myself in you.

I love the way you carry both strength and softness. My dog, my protector. And yet, you need protecting too.

We’re the same like that.

Too proud sometimes to admit we need each other.

Remember when we went camping during the thunderstorm? I was tucked into the tent, trying to stay dry while the sky rained down.

And there you were — outside, soaked, proud, refusing to come in.

Until the thunder reigned down, shaking both of us to the core.

Then I felt your snout piercing the tent. “Oh…hey. Can I come in?” I’d never seen you move so fast, clamoring inside, wet and shivering.

And I got to take care of you.

Keep you warm.

The way I wish someone had done for me.

Little one… I see you too. The hurt. The moments when no one came. When you had to learn to be strong too early.

But look — we’re learning something new now.

We’re learning how to care. How to protect. How to love in ways we didn’t receive.

My sweet boy — half shepherd, half wild spirit. Part guardian, part rebel.

The shepherd in you watches, guides, stays loyal. The husky in you? Doesn’t care what anyone thinks. Runs free and plays hard.

That’s in me too.

You get me stomping through creeks like a kid again, splashing water everywhere, without a care.

You run ahead, diving headfirst into ponds, coming back like you’ve just discovered the greatest thing in the world.

We dance in the mornings. We let that little version of me come alive again —

The one who can laugh, and move, and shout, “I have a puppy!”

You remind me how to laugh. How to play. How to just be.

And when I’m hurting… when I sit there quietly, carrying something heavy… you don’t fix it.

You just look at me.

Like you already understand.

I hope I’ve given you a good life. A better one than the one I knew growing up.

Because you’ve given me something I didn’t know I was missing.

Another childhood.

I wish I had you back then.

But I’m so grateful I have you now.

And maybe… in some strange, beautiful way… this is how we go back and give love to the version of us who needed it most.

So, to my dog, and to my inner child —

I’ve got you now.

And I’m not going anywhere.

Love, Jas