Valentine
Valentine
Around age 1, Valentine was rescued as a stray dog in Los Angeles. When she was found she had thick dreadlocks and long nails. I don’t know how long she was there nor how she got there. Maybe she was born there, lost, or abandoned. She was brought to Canada and adopted by a single mother and her three young children in Chilliwack. Three years later, my therapist asked me if I’d ever considered getting a dog. I hadn’t. I had never considered myself a dog person—the only pets I’d had growing up were fish and one gecko. But, I decided to give it a go.
Valentine’s previous family needed to move and could not find pet-friendly housing. Valentine was listed for adoption. They explained that Valentine had been staying with different family members, and it was time to find her a new home. So, we went to pay her a visit.
When we arrived Valentine was outside resting in her kennel. Beside was a large bowl of food but no water in sight. Once in the car I gave her some water, which she gulped up immediately. In that moment, I vowed to take very good care of her and give her the home she always deserved, while not yet fully understanding how she’d support me in the process.
Val has always loved people but was initially very afraid of other dogs. She would run and hide behind my legs when dogs approached, especially the big ones. Our groomer told me she had mysterious scars on her belly that were only seen when her hair was short enough. I always wondered if these were from dog attacks during her time as a stray. She was also not used to the sounds of the city, like big trucks and crowds. Over time and with exposure and encouragement, she got used to other dogs and loud sounds. It probably took her two years before she finally started approaching big dogs on her own. I was so proud of her gusto in these moments.
I noticed that people walking past on the sidewalk would light up when they saw her. She had a way of bringing joy to people. This happened so often that I wondered if it might be her calling. We signed up to volunteer at an organization called BC Pets and Friends. There Valentine worked as a therapy dog, doing weekly shifts at Royal Columbian Hospital and special events like meeting students at various local colleges during exam time. It was after a couple of years that Valentine’s enthusiasm dwindled, and I knew that was her way of telling me she was ready to retire from BC Pets and Friends. During this time and for about a year after we volunteered casually with a different (and more casual) program called Kudoz, where we hosted a dog-walking experience for people with intellectual disabilities.
Her ability to care for people's emotions never stopped. I remember she was off-leash at a park once when a young child was crying loudly. Before I knew it, she had run up to him and sat, waiting for him to pet her: acting out her calling. That child was deep in his meltdown and didn’t notice her, but for me it was such an example of Valentine’s intuition of human pain and her care for people. I felt that viscerally the many times she was with me through my own challenges. She accompanied me through extremely difficult times including a divorce, family estrangement, and mental health battles. In my most alone moments she was there, ensuring I never really had to be alone. The breakups—especially the divorce—were hard on her.
When I met my life partner, Damien, Valentine was smitten. On their first meeting, she cozied up to him and fell asleep on his lap—something she had never done with anyone else before. While we were dating, Valentine would pout whenever he would leave the apartment. Luckily, we soon moved in together. Damien was a grounding force in Valentine’s life, much like he has been in mine. Valentine was able to live with Damien for three years before her passing, during which time she was the calmest she’s ever been.
Val taught me how to listen and how to ask for what I need. Her unconditional love and support has meant the world to me, and I will carry her memory close to my heart for the rest of my life and hopefully beyond when we meet again.
