It was strange, I woke up this morning to a One-Dog World, this is the first time in my adult life that there is only one dog living under my roof and in my life. The One Dog happens to be a great dog, and I am lucky to have him, but it feels quite different inside the farmhouse with Lenore and Frieda gone, as it does out in the pasture with Simon gone.

One dog to be fed twice a day. A quiet dog who curls up and lies quietly for hours when he is not working. Red is an easy dog, he rushes outside, does his business, gets to work, sits quietly by my desk while I work, accompanies me through the chores of life. But still, it is quiet here. Something is missing.

Dogs are my work as well as my passion, I grow stories on my farm, not crops. I mean to get to work.

One after Frieida’s death and soon after the death of Lenore and Simon, I am moving forward. Some people suffer from grief, some transcend it, some seem to need it and struggle to let it go. Many people tell me the pain of losing a dog is so great they cannot get another one. Others tell me – every day, really – the details of the dogs they lost and how they are not yet ready to move on and get another dog (or horse or donkey or goat).

I respect every other person’s choices, but mine are different. I am odd, I know it, but there it is.  I believe a dog is a gift from the fates, from the heavens, an opportunity to live, become a better human, connect with the natural world and continue the great partnership between humans and animals that began thousands of years ago. We are losing touch with animals in our world, letting them go rather than fighting to keep them. Each one is a sacred miracle to me, there is not a day to be wasted for me. Dogs are about love and connection for me, not about grief. I accept they will not live as long as people, that is the toll, the trade-off. It is well worth it to me.

I do not wish to squander the gift of a dog in boundless grief,  in nostalgia and self-pity and looking backwards, in lament and stasis.  I will not make the wonderful experience of having a dog into a misery because they die sooner than we do.

At Bedlam Farm, we are about life, and we need to get some flowing the other way. Like the poet says, lips to the world. And just live.

I mourn the dogs who are gone, I will not squander the gift feeling sorry for what I don’t have, rather than appreciate what I do have. That is the great opportunity to have another. A woman on Facebook was horrified when I wrote last week that dogs, unlike people, are replaceable. But they are, and I am happy for that. People tell me they are sorry for my loss, and that is sweet, but the truth is, I am grateful for the gift, I am sorry for none of it.

I want to replace the dogs that have blessed me and left, and I am beginning that process today, Maria and I are going to see a very fine breeder I have known for years, she lives near us, and she may have a litter sometime this Spring or Summer. It is the beginning of the process of life, replenishment love and opportunity. It is the gift of dogs, I will embrace it.

I have done well with dogs following my own process. I do not believe there is only one way to get a dog. I believe there are many good ways and many bad ways and the task is to be patient, thorough, thoughtful and rational in the process. To me, there is nothing more arrogant  than telling someone else how they must get a dog. What gall. Getting a dog is intensely personal and individual, I would not shackle anyone with the simplistic notion that there is only one way to do it. I see and hear too many sad stories about dogs and people struggling to be with one another.

I love my dogs, but getting a dog is not an emotional or moral experience for me, it is not about me feeling good about myself or superior to others, it is sometimes about rescue, sometimes not. It is about the best and most considered pairing possible between an animal and a human being. The best way to get a dog is if the dog is to get the right dog for me, and for me to be the right human for him. That takes work, not emotion. It takes time and thought and research, not just a drive to the breeder or the shelter. And then the hard work really begins, training and acclimating and fitting into the lives of one another. I can’t wait to do it again.

There are good breeders and bad breeders, good shelters and bad ones, good rescue groups and bad rescue groups. The dog lover is on his or her own, navigating a complex, chaotic and largely unregulated process. I am surrounded by rescue animals here on the farm, and rescuing an animal is a wonderful experience. I suppose my very best experiences with dogs – Rose, Lenore, Pearl,  Izzy, Red – have come because I have found very good breeders who develop the best traits on dogs – health, temperament, stability – and are skilled at matching their dogs with the right people.

I have always been drawn to the great working breeds, I appreciate their inbred connection to humans, their intelligence, energy and the opportunity to work with them. You can find wonderful dogs in a shelter – Frieda came from one – but although there are many wonderful dogs in shelters, it might be difficult to  find Red or Lenore there. Those are the kinds of dogs I need and want, dogs whose temperament is beyond doubt, who can go anywhere, who can handle children biting their ears, or walk safely in the woods with me and never run off. Everyone to their own needs and passions.

I remember Gretchen Pinkel of Kee-Pin Labs sitting me down in a chair and bringing me a small and sweet puppy. This, she said, will be a great dog for you and for what you need and want. So it was. I thought of Gretchen when I took Lenore into a Saratoga school with 40 children, all of whom pounced on her at one. She disappeared in a cloud of hugs and screams, her tail never stopped wagging.  Dr. Karen Thompson, another experienced breeder, messaged me and she said she had a border collie that would be the perfect dog for me, and so Red was and is.

Red did not ask for me, he did not find me, a good and intuitive breeder found both of us and put us together.

Yesterday at the gym, a small child ran up and grabbed Red by the tail. He turned, pulled away and walked to the other side of the gym, then sat down. She ran after him, he got up and walked to the other side of the gym. After two or three trips, she got bored and moved on. How lucky, I thought, to have this dog.  It could have been a different story, that is the kind of dog I must have.

Tomorrow, he and I will be at the Williamstown, Mass., library (1 p.m.), speaking about “Saving Simon,” and about people and animals.  I am always happy to bring Red, although it is tough on the ego, he tends to be fussed over much more than me. I can concentrate on my talk, I do not have to worry about where he will be or what he will do.

People tell me that the right dog will find me, just as many people believe dogs will let us know when it is time for them to go.

I do not share either of those beliefs. It is my responsibility as an advocate for my dog to decide when it is time for them to go,it is  not their responsibility, I can’t let myself off the hook that easily.  I can’t put these things on a helpless animal. It is my responsibility to do the work and thought that go into having a great dog, the right dog for me, a dog who is safe, can be trusted, and can be a partner of my in the joys and travails of life.

So today, I am beginning that process. There might be other animals coming onto the farm as well, if this winter ever ends. I will share this ride with you, I expect it will take many months, I would not be surprised if it took a couple of weeks. You are invited to come along for the ride, the usual rules abiding: I am not looking for advice, best not to tell me what to. And thanks for caring.