Today is National Dog Day, a perfect excuse, as if I needed one, to take a quiet pause and write about someone who’s been my steadfast companion, my confidant, my comic relief, and, in many ways, my four-legged therapist: Ollie.
Ollie is a bundle of energy wrapped in fur, a loving, endlessly curious adventurer who can walk for four hours without so much as a sigh, dive headfirst into the muddiest puddle he can find, and still look at you as if he’s done something entirely noble. He loves his ball, loves water, and loves exploring with such wild enthusiasm that my husband Peter often says we are alike. And perhaps we are. We both seem to have a magnetic pull towards mischief, adventure, and the slightly unconventional path.
He’s the sort of dog who greets every day like it’s the best one yet, no matter the weather. Rain only means better puddles, and wind only means more scents to chase. And that’s the thing about Ollie, he reminds me daily that joy can be found in the simplest of moments.
This isn’t a glossy magazine-style feature on dog ownership; it’s simply written from the heart. Because some bonds in life deserve to be celebrated in the plainest, truest way.
How Ollie Came Into Our Lives
We had lost a beloved King Charles Cavalier years before, a dog who had been my shadow, my protector, and the quiet “man of the house” when I was raising the boys alone. His loss had been too raw, too painful, to consider another.
At the time, we were just emerging from lockdown. Zak had started at a new school, and it felt like the right moment for something joyful to join our home. My other two boys had dogs, and Zak made his case with a mixture of logic and heartbreak: “It’s unfair, I don’t have a dog.”
We found ourselves in Wales, meeting a reputable breeder and being introduced to Ollie’s parents. We visited twice before bringing him home. Among the litter, Ollie was the naughtiest pup, full of spirit, curiosity, and a certain roguish charm. My son Zak decided, there and then, that he wanted him.
Ollie sealed the deal by tugging at Zak’s trousers with determined little teeth, as if to say, “I’ve chosen you, so that’s settled.” We have the video to prove it, Ollie clinging, wriggling, refusing to be ignored.
Somehow, Ollie managed to open the door to my heart again. He became part of our family.
A Companion Through It All
Over the past two years, I’ve been navigating deeply challenging times, I have been suffering from PTSD and moments of trauma that arrive without warning. Ollie has an uncanny, almost unexplainable awareness of my emotional state.
In the middle of the night, he will leap onto the bed, rest his head on my shoulder, and look at Peter with an expression that says, “She’s not well, do something.” If I try to keep my feelings hidden from my family, Ollie ignores my pretence. He tells them in his own way.
It’s as if he’s taken it upon himself to be my quiet guardian. He will sit pressed against me until the storm inside me passes, or until my breathing slows. Some nights, he simply lies there, his presence a silent reassurance that I’m not alone.
Peter jokes that Ollie and I both have ADHD, a pair of restless wanderers who keep each other moving. Walking with him is therapy, rhythm, and a gentle reminder that the world exists beyond whatever is swirling in my head. Whenever we are walking, I feel like we are one, completely in step, connected in a way that words can’t quite capture.
Healing in Little Moments
Ollie’s comfort isn’t grand or dramatic, it’s woven into the fabric of our days. Morning walks through fields I once considered unremarkable now feel alive with shifting light, changing seasons, and a thousand small details. His warm weight on the sofa beside me, the way he insists on eye contact until I relent, the gentle sighs as he drifts into sleep, all of it helps me calm down.
And then there’s his humour. He has a kangaroo-like spring when treats are involved. He chases birds with the kind of joy you’d expect from a child running through a meadow. He has a toy duck that he launches at me when I’m busy, his way of declaring it’s his playtime, not mine.
Those moments pull me into the present. They remind me that life doesn’t always need fixing, it sometimes just needs living.
Running a Business with Ollie by My Side
With all the work that I do, from designing, development, prototypes, marketing, creating stands, and blending fragrances back and forth, I travel across the country to meet contractors and companies supplying raw materials. Whenever possible, I take Ollie with me. For international trips, such as Paris Packaging Week, which I’ve attended over the past three years, he can’t come along, and while I enjoy the business side, I always find myself eager to return to him and my family. The feeling is mutual, he waits just as eagerly for me.
He often joins me at my boutique in Kew, sitting guard at the door. When I’m working too long without pause, he nudges in until I stroke him, a simple act that resets my mind more than any productivity trick ever could. I’m deeply aware that our time together is short-lived, so I make sure we share as many moments as possible, whether travelling, working, or simply sitting side by side.
Running a creative business is a constant balancing act, but with Ollie by my side, the scales always tip towards joy.
What Ollie Has Taught Me
From Ollie, I’ve learned the art of slowing down and noticing the small things: the bend of a tree branch, the call of a bird, the subtle shift in the air before rain. He’s taught me that loyalty is quiet, that joy doesn’t need a reason, and that presence is the best gift you can give someone you love.
He’s brought our family closer. Peter has his breakfast ritual with him. Zak and Kieran take turns walking and caring for him. Around the dinner table, Ollie is as much a part of the conversation as any of us.
And perhaps most importantly, he’s reminded me that an ordinary field, with its hedgerows, muddy paths, and hidden beauty, can be extraordinary if you’re willing to look.
A Note to Others Struggling
If you’re in a difficult season, I hope you find your own version of Ollie, a dog, a cat, a garden, a daily walk. Pets, nature, and small, steady routines are not “small” at all. They are anchors, holding you steady when the rest of life feels uncertain.
They don’t fix everything. They don’t need to. They simply give you something to hold onto until you can hold yourself again.
Happy National Dog Day
So today, Ollie, thank you, for your muddy paws, your late-night comfort, your mischievous grin, and for teaching me that joy is everywhere, even in the places I once overlooked.
If you could understand every word, I’d tell you: I wish you could stay with me forever. Every day with you matters.
And to my readers, tell me about your own dogs or pets. On days like this, it’s worth sharing the stories that make you smile, laugh, or even cry a little. Because in the end, these companions give us the most extraordinary gift of all: unconditional love. It asks for nothing, demands no perfection, and forgives every mistake. It is simply given, freely, completely, and without measure. And in that love, we are reminded of what it truly means to be seen, accepted, and cherished, just as we are.
