The day we got Alex’s diagnosis was one of the worst in our lives.
We sat with her, trying to say the right things, trying to make it feel manageable. We told her we would be with her every step of the way—that this was just a temporary setback.
Nothing worked.
The only thing that made her smile was when I said, “We’ll get you a puppy.”
Some people might say that was the worst possible time to bring a puppy into the family.
But those people didn’t know Alex.
A puppy would give her a companion when her friends were away at school. It would give her something to focus on during treatment. And it would give her one more reason to fight.
And when it became too much, we would help.
Talk Her Out of It
Alex found a breeder with long-haired German Shepherd puppies in Lancaster. We drove out on a snowy Friday morning.
When we arrived, the breeder let Alex into the house and held up a hand to stop me.
“You have to talk her out of this,” he said after seeing her. “She won’t be able to handle an adult German Shepherd.”
He clearly didn’t know Alex either.
I pulled out my phone, showed him pictures of Blitz, and told him we would be fine.
It was love at first sight—for Alex, and for me too.
We drove back to Maryland with an adorable ball of fluff who would become Alex’s constant companion.
The Wild Child
Blitz was a dream to raise. Dakota was a challenge. She was smart, energetic, and always ready for new adventures. She was also stubborn, strong-willed, impatient, and inclined to do as she pleased.
All in all, she was the canine version of Alex.
After a stretch of good behavior, Alex wanted to leave Dakota out of her crate while we went to lunch.
It was against my better judgment.
“It will only be for an hour,” Alex said. “She’s been really good lately.”
We came home to a disaster. The mail was shredded across the floor. Alex’s snack drawer had been emptied—wrappers everywhere, not a crumb left.
Dakota had dragged a plunger into the dining room, broken into the dog food container, and eaten as much as she could reach. Roxy and Blitz may have helped.
And when it all became too much for her system to handle, she left us one final surprise in the bedroom.
It was a long time before Dakota was trusted with that freedom again.
Another time, my neighbor invited us over for a swim. Dakota loved the pool. I put Dakota in the back yard and went in to change. When I came out, Dakota was alone in the pool swimming happily. I needed to know how she got there. So I put her back in my yard and watched her climb a four-foot fence to get back to the pool. I didn’t know she could do that.
It Takes a Village
Dakota didn’t grow up on her own. She had a whole village behind her. Alex was devoted to her. Alex’s mother and I were, too. Even Roxy, Blitz, and Kal-El did their part. They played with Dakota to burn off her energy. They were patient with her when she stole their toys or their food. And they taught her by demonstrating how good dogs behaved.
Dakota grew into an important part of the pack.
Moving Forward
For three years, Dakota went wherever Alex went. Through school, through moves, through milestones—and through the hardest moments of her life—Dakota was always there.
She wasn’t just a companion. She was part of how Alex got through everything.
After Alex passed, Dakota came to live with Roxy, Blitz, and me.
She’s no longer the puppy who shared adventures with Alex and helped her through treatment. She’s something more.
She’s the leader of her own pack—an example to a new generation of German Shepherds.
In her own way, she’s still carrying Alex forward.
Most important, she is the part of Alex I still have.
These are the stories that shaped the pack—the ones that matter. If you’d like to see how those stories come together, you can learn more about The Great Dog Pack here.
Want to see more pictures of the pack. There’s a free gallery on my website here.