On Loyalty, Homemade Liver Snacks, and What A French Bulldog Taught Me About How To Treat People
Five years ago I got a French Bulldog and my friends had opinions.
How will you travel with a dog? Won’t that cramp your style? Too much responsibility at your age?
Yeah, yeah. I did it anyway. And Walter has been the best decision I have made in a very long time.
What Walter Actually Does
Let me tell you about this dog.
When I am sad, Walter is there. Not in a performative, tail-wagging, trying-too-hard kind of way. In a quiet, I-see-you, I-am-not-going-anywhere kind of way. He has seen me crawl out of some dark places. He was there for all of it — not judging, not advising, not telling me what I should have done differently. Just present. Fully, consistently, without condition.
When I am in a fabulous mood, he is my hype man. He matches my energy like he has been waiting for it all day. Because he has.
When the suitcases come out, he is my road dog. No complaints. No drama. Just Walter, ready to go wherever we are going, trusting completely that it will be good because I said so.
He is always happy to see me. Every single time. Like I have been gone for years even when it has been twenty minutes. That kind of greeting does something to a person. It reminds you that you are worth being happy about.
What He Gets In Return
Loyalty is everything. And in this house, loyalty gets rewarded.
Walter gets homemade snacks because he deserves homemade snacks. I dehydrate liver so he can snack-u-late fully and with dignity. I plant blackberries in my garden — blackberries, which I personally despise — so he can have a seasonal treat that makes him lose his entire mind with joy. I dress him like a boss because he carries himself like one and the outfit should match the energy.
None of this feels like too much. All of it feels like exactly right.
Because here is what Walter taught me — when someone shows up for you consistently, without agenda, without conditions, without keeping score — you show up for them. Fully. Enthusiastically. With dehydrated liver treats if that is what makes them feel whole.
What This Has To Do With The Rest Of Your Life
Walter is a dog. But the lesson is not about dogs.
It is about what consistent, unconditional presence actually looks like — and how rarely we extend it to the humans in our lives, or to ourselves.
We show up for people halfway. We care conditionally. We give when it is convenient and pull back when it costs us something. We keep mental tabs on who did what and whether the effort was reciprocated and whether we are getting as much as we are giving. And then we wonder why our relationships feel transactional.
Walter does not do any of that. He just shows up. Every time. All the way.
And the other side of this is harder to say out loud — most of us do not treat ourselves the way I treat Walter. We do not dehydrate the liver for ourselves. We do not plant the blackberries we despise because our own joy is worth the inconvenience. We do not dress ourselves like bosses on an ordinary day just because we carry ourselves like one.
We wait. We earn it. We tell ourselves we will invest in our own care when things are better, when we have more time, when we deserve it more than we do right now.
Walter does not wait to deserve his snacks. He exists and that is enough. His loyalty is enough. His presence is enough.
So is yours.
The Bottom Line
My Frenchie is my best friend because he showed me what loyalty without conditions actually feels like. And once you have experienced that — really felt it — you start to understand what you owe the people in your life who show up the same way.
You also start to understand what you owe yourself.
Show up for the people who show up for you. Reward the loyalty in your life like it matters — because it does. And take as good care of yourself as you take of the ones you love most.
Walter would want that for you. He is generous like that.
