This book has been no small task in writing. It has consumed large parts of almost three years of my life. Before starting it, if someone had asked what kind of project I’d work on for three years, I would have assumed some five-hundred-page academic tome with two thousand footnotes—not a short book about dogs for a general readership, for goodness’ sake! Yet, so it has been, and so I’ve learned that writing (true writing that seeks to reach a reader more than prove a point) is a bitch! A blessed bitch, no doubt, but a monolithic task nevertheless.

Speaking of bitches, at first blush, writing on dogs might seem odd for me. I haven’t cut my teeth writing on Saint Francis or ethical and religious dimensions of ecology or animals. Yet, in another sense, this direction fits me perfectly. I’m a practical theologian, seeking to explore the theological and spiritual depths of our lived experience. For many of us, there is no more concrete lived experience than that which we have with our dogs. I’ve also spent a majority of my life researching and teaching the spirituality of children and adolescence. While this book on dogs doesn’t seem directly connected to that, either, the inspiration for delving into this lived experience of the love and loss of our dogs was born out of the experience of my own children and the wonder of what it is that dogs do for young people.

So it is first to them, Owen and Maisy, that I must offer my thanks. Too often I’ve shared stories about them in writing and presentations without their permission. Yet this project was different. They cheered me on, offering their most painful experience of loss for others to read. Writing about dogs actually made me a minor celebrity to Maisy and her friends. Often Maisy would say to classmates, “My dad is writing a book about dogs,” and the other kids would ooh and ahhh. That’s a rare experience for a theologian. She saw me as an expert in something that matters deeply to her. The downside was that she asked me repeated questions, such as “Can dogs see green? Can they really smell fear? What is the largest dog ever?”—many of which I did not have clear answers for, making me feel more like an impostor than an expert.

This book took three years to write because I rewrote it at least three times (with major revisions in between). Luckily for me, I had an honest coach in so doing. Kathy Helmers has been not only a literary agent; she is also a confidante and truth-teller. More than once (more like half a dozen times), Kathy told me the manuscript wasn’t good enough and to push harder. Yet this criticism never came without direction, inspiration, and assistance. This project would never have come to be without her patience and willingness to struggle along with me. After much sweat and blood, Kathy convinced David Kopp to take a shot on it at Convergent. It has been an amazing pleasure to work with David. His kindness and direction have been inspirational. I’m also deeply thankful to Derek Reed, who provided important insights on the project and helped me to make it so much stronger.

A few friends also deserve direct, in-print thanks. Tony Jones encouraged me in this project and connected me with Kathy at the beginning. Carla Barnhill lent her amazing editing skills to an earlier version. And David Lose was the first to hear about my hope to write this, encouraging me, during a run together, to go for it, and assuring me that it wasn’t crazy.

Finally, there is one person who deserves the largest thanks, and that is my wife (and partner in all things), Kara Root. This is no proverbial “thanks” to the spouse, your support and blah, blah, blah helped me through…Rather, Kara’s help went much, much deeper. At least for two versions of the rewrites, she sat next to me and worked out the edits, helping me write things more clearly, directing me. Truth be told, Kara is a way, way more talented writer than I am, and her genius can be found on all these pages. So, with not one shred of hyperbole, in all honesty, I say that this manuscript and our shared experience of losing Kirby would not have been possible without her. She has been the great blessing of my life.