Dekker Writes Again

Slowing Down, Stretching Out, and Smelling What Matters

As I (Dekker—service dog, squirrel whisperer, and expert in naps) stretch out in a sunny patch on the floor, I find myself reflecting on a few more of the puzzling human questions that have come my way lately.

My person says I’m wise beyond my fur.

I think I’m just observant.

After all, when you spend most of your time lying still, you start to notice what really matters.

So curl up somewhere soft, and let’s see what we can sniff out together.

Question from Linda:
“Dekker, I just retired and suddenly my days feel too long and too empty.
I thought I’d enjoy the quiet, but it feels lonely instead.
What do I do with all this time?”

Woof Woof, Linda,

Retirement sounds a bit like when my person takes off my vest and says, “You’re off duty now.” At first, I miss the routine.

I look around for something to do.

But then the sun warms my back, and I remember that being is sometimes more important than doing.

You’re not empty—you’re just in a quieter part of the day. Like late afternoon, when the world turns golden and slow.

Could it be that this time is meant for longer walks, slower snacks, and deeper naps?

Try filling your hours the way I fill mine: sniff the air, listen to the birds, sit close to someone you love.

You’re not alone, Linda. You’re just discovering the part of yourself that lives beyond the busy.

Question from James:
“Dekker, my wife has dementia, and some days
I don’t think she knows who I am. I sit
beside her, but I wonder if it
matters anymore.
Does it?”

Woof Woof, James,

Oh, friend. This question smells like grief, and I want to sit beside you in it for a while.

Sometimes my person cries and I don’t know why. I can’t fix it. But I stay close. I let her feel it all, without interruption. Maybe that’s what love really is—showing up, even when we’re not sure it makes a difference.

Here’s what I believe: your presence still registers, even if her memory does not. She may not know your name, but she knows the scent of safety, the warmth of care. Those things never leave.

When in doubt, stay near. Your lap, your voice, your gentleness—they matter more than you’ll ever know.

Question from Melody:
“Dekker, I’m so tired of trying to keep up.
Everyone else seems to do more,
look better, and age more gracefully.
How do I stop feeling behind?”

Woof Woof, Melody,

Behind what, exactly? I’ve never seen a race at the dog park where everyone had to run the same direction at the same speed. Some of us zigzag. Some of us roll in the grass. Some just sit and sniff.

You’re not behind. You’re on your own trail.

Comparing yourself to others is like sniffing someone else’s treat and forgetting you have one of your own. What if you just focused on the scent in front of you? What if you wagged your tail for what’s yours?

You don’t have to age like anyone else. You only have to age like you. And maybe lean into it with the same joy I feel when I find an old tennis ball in the bushes.

Question from Henry:
“Dekker, my adult children are busy
and don’t call often. I feel like
I’m being left behind.
How do I keep from
feeling forgotten?”

Woof Woof, Henry,

Being left behind is a hard feeling. I couldn’t go with my person once… not sure why. I sat by the last place I saw her, heart pounding, tail still.

She came back. Of course she did. But in that moment, I understood what it meant to wait and wonder.

I don’t know why grown puppies—humans or otherwise—seem to forget their pack. But they do discover their territory is much bigger and they must explore it. I do know that bonds don’t break just because the leash gets long.

Is there a way you could reach out with love, not guilt? A note. A story. A picture of your lunch. (Food pictures always get a response.)

Sometimes waiting for them to come back is difficult, and when they come back you may feel like jumping all over them.

Don’t.

I find that never works.

Question from Pam:
“Dekker, I have trouble praying lately.
I sit in silence, but I don’t feel anything.
Is that normal?”

Woof Woof, Pam,

Oh yes, silence. It confuses humans.

But silence is one of my favorite things. It’s where all the important stuff lives. I sit beside my person when she’s quiet, and I know the silence is doing something even if we can’t see it.

I’m not sure what silence or prayer is supposed to feel like. Sometimes it’s just a warm patch of sunlight, or a deep breath, or the way your chest rises and falls as you wait.

What if prayer isn’t something you do, but something you enter?

I’ll tell you a secret. I once sat for an hour with my head on my person’s lap. She said it was the most prayerful moment she’d had all week. I thought we were just resting.

Question from Gloria:
“Dekker, I’ve lost three friends this year.
It’s starting to feel like
everyone I love is leaving.
How do I keep my heart open?”

Woof Woof, Gloria,

I’ve lost pack members too. I still walk into a room and expect to see them curled up on the couch. The heart remembers in ways that the head can’t always explain.

Loss is part of having a big heart. It stretches and aches and doesn’t close up, even when it wants to.

Here’s what helps me: I remember their smell. The way they made my tail wag. The treats they slipped me when they thought no one was looking.

Love doesn’t leave. It just changes form.

Keep your heart open, Gloria. That’s how the next friend finds their way in.

Until next time, may your days be slow enough to notice what matters, your naps deep enough to heal, and your heart just soft enough to love again.

And if you ever want to ask me something, just leave a comment below. I get a piece of kibble for each one, and believe me—I’m counting.

Woof Woof,
Dekker

Slowing Down, Stretching Out, and Smelling What Matters

Question from Linda: “Dekker, I just retired and suddenly my days feel too long and too empty. I thought I’d enjoy the quiet, but it feels lonely instead. What do I do with all this time?”

Question from James: “Dekker, my wife has dementia, and some days I don’t think she knows who I am. I sit beside her, but I wonder if it matters anymore. Does it?”

Question from Melody: “Dekker, I’m so tired of trying to keep up. Everyone else seems to do more, look better, and age more gracefully. How do I stop feeling behind?”

Question from Henry: “Dekker, my adult children are busy and don’t call often. I feel like I’m being left behind. How do I keep from feeling forgotten?”

Question from Pam: “Dekker, I have trouble praying lately. I sit in silence, but I don’t feel anything. Is that normal?”

Question from Gloria: “Dekker, I’ve lost three friends this year. It’s starting to feel like everyone I love is leaving. How do I keep my heart open?”

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