Millie: The Dog Who Changed My Life

On the 31st of December 2024, I said goodbye to the dog who shaped my life.

Millie. My first dog out of home. My constant for over a decade.

She walked with me through a third of my life, and somehow, it still does not feel long enough.

She was there through everything, relationships beginning and ending, moving house, new jobs, long drives, and travels near and far. If I could take her with me, I did. And when I could not, I carried her in my thoughts until I came home. There was no part of my life she was not woven into.

Millie was not just a companion, she was my mirror.

After twenty years of building walls, of armouring myself against the world, she was the one who softened me. With her, I never had to hide. She saw me, all of me. The messy, the tender, the parts I did not want the rest of the world to see. And she stayed. She nurtured me.

I still remember those very first days we shared. Just a few days after bringing her home as a tiny puppy, I went away to the river with friends. Millie spent the afternoon racing around with the other dogs, her little legs carrying her in every direction, joy spilling out of her in every step. As the sun began to soften and the afternoon drew to a close, I looked around for her and suddenly realised she was gone. My chest tightened with panic. My voice cracked as I called out, “Where’s Millie?”

My friends smiled gently and pointed. “She’s right there, underneath you.”

I looked down, and there she was, curled in a perfect ball beneath my deck chair, fast asleep, her tiny body tucked into the safety of my shadow. In that moment, everything shifted. I knew she was always going to be close. That no matter how far I wandered, she would always find her way back to me. From that day on, I never doubted it. And she never let me down.

She had such a sense of humour.

When she was a puppy, long before I knew anything about dogs or training, she would run wild on the beach, zooming in circles with no intention of coming back when called. She was far too clever for teenage me. The moment I picked up her lead, signalling it was time to go home, she turned it into a game of catch me if you can. No amount of calling or chasing worked, she outsmarted me every time.

My only trick was to walk over to the car and open the door. The second she heard that familiar sound, she came sprinting, leaping in with pure delight. She loved car rides so much that the promise of adventure always outweighed her little games. Even then, she was teaching me, laughing at my seriousness, reminding me not to take life too hard, showing me that joy was just as important as obedience.

And she carried that joy everywhere, especially to the water. Oceans, rivers, creeks, if there was water, Millie was in it. She threw herself into it with the same fearless joy she gave to everything she loved.

When I was lost in my head, she knew exactly how to bring me back. She would press her head firmly into my chest, grounding me with just enough weight that I had no choice but to return to my body. And her eyes, those deep, knowing eyes that could eat you right up. One look from her and I felt as though we had met many lifetimes before. She always felt like a familiar to me, a soul I had known long before this life, returning again to walk beside me.

There was a grandmother-like wisdom in her. Stoic, calm, grounded. Everyone who met her felt it, the sense that she was a guardian. A quiet protector. A steady, watching presence that made the world feel safe.

She is the reason I get to wake up every day and do what I love.

Because in the early days, I misunderstood her. I missed her signals. I did not always get it right. But she was patient, and she taught me. She shaped me into the trainer, and the person, I am today. Without Millie, there would be no EpicDog. Without Millie, there would be no Wanderer With Dogs.

Because she was the first to walk beside me on this path, the dog who began it all.

She wandered with me through lifetimes, through endings and beginnings, through deaths and rebirths. She was the dog who made me the wanderer I am.

And then came the day I had to let her go.

Helping her cross over the threshold was the hardest thing I have ever done, but also the greatest act of love I could give her. She is no longer here in body, but she is forever with me in spirit. You will read her name here often, because there is no way to capture her in a single reflection. It will take many writings to even begin to honour who she was and all that she gave me.

That is the thing about dogs. Unless you have lived it, unless you have had one walk beside you in such a way that they alter the course of your life, it is almost impossible to explain. People can tell you about it, but you will not believe it until you feel it. Because dogs do not just accompany us. The right dog, at the right time, transforms us.

Millie gave me that gift.

She helped me build a life I love. She helped me remember who I was beneath all the armour. She walked beside me through the hardest and most beautiful seasons of my life, and in doing so, she left me with her greatest gift, the life she helped me create.

From her tiny body curled beneath my chair to her very last breath on my bed, she never left my side.

She was my first dog.

She taught me love, patience, presence, and joy.

She shaped the path I walk today.

And though I had to let her go, she will forever be my guiding star, watching over me from the cosmos, until we meet again.

A.