Ever since Doodle passed away last November, I’ve been pretty convinced that I would never have another dog.
Not because I don’t love dogs anymore. Quite the opposite.
It’s because Doodle was the best dog. Like, objectively. Scientifically. Peer-reviewed. No further studies needed.
She was my dog.
And after losing her, I couldn’t imagine starting over with another one. I didn’t want a new dog. I wanted my dog back. And since nobody has figured out how to give me that, I thought maybe that part of my life was just over.
Except…
At some point, I started looking at puppies online.
NOT because I wanted one.
Obviously.
I was just… looking.
For research purposes.
It became basically Tinder for dogs.
Cute puppy. Swipe.
Cute puppy. Swipe.
OMG LOOK AT HIS LITTLE FEET. Swipe.
Absolutely adorable. Still emotionally unavailable. Swipe.
I could spend an embarrassing amount of time looking at puppies and still feel pretty safe because none of them felt like mine.
Until one did.
But before I get to the tiny criminal responsible for all of this, let me introduce her parents.
Her mom is Ivy, a 42-lb Border Collie who is apparently sweet, affectionate, athletic, loves running and chasing balls, and then comes inside and turns into a calm little couch potato who wants to cuddle.
Then there’s Dad.
Hamlet is a 28-lb Moyen Poodle. He’s described as spunky, sweet, and a big fan of giving kisses. Also, his name is Hamlet, which honestly makes him look even funnier to me because he looks like he should be contemplating the meaning of existence, but instead he’s wearing a yellow bow tie.
So somebody looked at these two and thought:
You know what we should do?
Combine them.
A Border Collie brain + Poodle brain.
Fantastic.🧠🧠🧠
I’m sure I will remain the smartest person in my household for approximately five more days.
And then came Toffee.
Born May 21, 2026.
When I first saw her, she was basically a potato.
A tiny black-and-white potato.
Then came another picture.
And another.
Eyes opened.
Tiny paws appeared.
Fluff started happening.
Then suddenly she had this ridiculous little face and black floppy ears and a tongue sticking out, and I realized I had a problem.
Because normally I could look at puppies and think:
“Awww.”
And move on with my life.
But I kept going back to Toffee’s profile.
There was just something about her.
I wish I had some beautiful explanation for it, but I really don’t. I just looked at her little face and my heart did this weird thing.
It was basically:
Oh.
It’s you.
And then immediately:
Oh no.
Because I knew.
I hadn’t even met this dog yet. She had contributed absolutely nothing to our relationship besides existing in several JPEGs.
And somehow I knew she was mine.
That feeling scared me a little, too.
Because there’s a part of grief that makes you feel strangely protective of the person (or animal) you lost.
Like loving someone new might somehow take something away from them.
And I never, ever want Toffee to feel like a replacement for Doodle.
Because she isn’t.
Nobody could replace Doodle.
I don’t want another Doodle.
I want Doodle.
And I will probably always want Doodle.
That’s the sad part.
But I think I’m starting to understand something I couldn’t understand last November.
Getting another dog doesn’t mean I loved Doodle enough and then stopped.
Love isn’t a one-bedroom apartment.
Apparently my heart has terrible zoning laws and will just keep approving new construction.
Doodle has her place.
She always will.
There are memories of her that still make me laugh. There are other ones that can completely ruin my day if they catch me at the wrong moment.
Sometimes I can talk about her and be totally fine. Sometimes I still can’t.
I don’t think Toffee is going to fix that. And I don’t want her to.
She has a completely different job.
Her job is to be Toffee.
To grow up with us. To become part of the stories we haven’t lived yet.
And somehow, even before she gets here, she already feels like part of our weird little crew.
Her Gotcha Day will be August 12.
I’m counting down the days.
I’m excited.
I’m nervous.
I’m buying things I didn’t know dogs needed.
I’m watching puppy-training videos like I’m studying for the MCAT.
And I’m trying not to think about the truly astonishing amount of poop that is about to enter my life.
❤️Doodle, my dearest dearest Doodle, I hope you’re watching this whole situation and laughing.
You spent years training me, and apparently I have learned nothing because I have voluntarily signed up to start from Level 1 again.
And Luna… my princess Luna. I’m so sorry. You did not vote for this. Nobody consulted you. Your formal complaint has been received and will be ignored.😭
But I think we’re going to be okay.
Because loving Toffee isn’t moving on from Doodle. I will be moving forward with her.
Doodle taught me what it feels like to love a dog with your entire heart. She made that part of me.
And now this tiny black-and-white potato showed up on my phone and somehow found the door Doodle left open.
No, Toffee isn’t replacing you, Doodle. Nobody ever will. You just made my heart bigger than it was before.
Big enough to miss you forever… and still have room for one more little idiot.
Welcome to the crew, Toffee. 🤍
I already love you.
Please pee outside.