Shadow’s death taught me about bonding with a successor service dog and about loving Phoenix.
I was devastated when I learned that Shadow had only one month to live.
Shadow was a miracle dog, though. Instead of one month, he lived another four and a half years.
I think I cried more during that first week after his diagnosis than I ever had. Looking back, I realize something happened that I never intended, nor even realized I was doing. In a way, I think I began saying goodbye to him and grieving my loss long before he was gone.
I often wonder if it was my mind’s way of protecting me.
Don’t get me wrong—I never stopped loving Shadow. But something shifted in our bond, and it never quite felt the same.
Following the advice of our trainer and encouragement from many others, I purchased another black Lab to become Shadow’s successor. We named him Phoenix Rising.
Phoenix was an adorable bundle of energy. I was excited to welcome him home and committed to training him to become a great service dog.
At the same time, I felt guilty every time I left Shadow behind so I could work on puppy socialization with Phoenix. Training was harder than I expected because my attention was divided. I deeply missed having Shadow with me every moment of every day while I introduced Phoenix to all the experiences he would need to navigate as a service dog.
Phoenix was also quite a challenge!
For months, he refused to sleep past four in the morning. He struggled to learn polite greetings. When I broke several ribs, he was nearly impossible for me to manage. I hate to admit it, but I was glad for the respite when he stayed with his breeder for a few weeks while I recovered.
During training sessions with our professional service dog trainers, I often found myself saying, “I didn’t practice as much as I should have.”
I knew I wasn’t putting in the effort Phoenix needed, but I didn’t understand why.
Then, several weeks after Shadow died, I had a painful realization.
I resented Phoenix.
That isn’t easy to admit. It wasn’t easy to admit to myself, and it isn’t easy to admit to you.
The truth is that Phoenix joined our family while my heart still belonged to Shadow. Instead of helping me prepare for the future, he often felt like an interruption to the time I had left with my best friend, Shadow.
I don’t feel good about that.
I’d like to tell you that nothing changed between Shadow and me; that Phoenix got just as much attention, patience, and devotion as Shadow did when he was a puppy.
But that wouldn’t be true.
So what can I do now?
A few things.
I can tell my story in the hope that someone else recognizes themselves in it. Maybe they’ll make different choices. Maybe they’ll simply understand their own feelings a little better.
I can tell my story so that anyone carrying the same guilt knows they are not alone.
Most importantly, I can choose who I am for Phoenix – now.
And I have.
I make a point of giving him more attention throughout the day, and lots of love when I come home. We spend more time snuggling on the couch. And sometimes I invite him onto my bed—a place that once belonged only to Shadow.
I am trying to build a deeper connection with him, to be more intentional in our training and more present in our relationship.
And I am trying to forgive myself.
I can’t change what happened.
I can only tell Shadow that I loved him always, and that I am sorry for the ways things changed.
And I can tell Phoenix:
You are not my Shadow.
You’ll never be Shadow.
But I do love you.
And I promise to give you the very best of me, from today until forever.
********
When I shared this with our trainer at At Your Service Dog Training, Sharon completely understood, saying, “I think it is a classic example of second dog syndrome. It is extremely common. And I think you should forgive yourself and cut yourself and Phoenix some slack.” It helps to know I’m not alone.
Sharon also shared her post on Second Dog Syndrome. It is full of helpful information if you find yourself in the position of training your successor dog while still having your current service dog.