At Boundary Bay Veterinary Specialty Hospital, we sometimes hear, “I shouldn’t feel this sad — it was just a dog.”
But love doesn’t measure by species. Pets share our homes, our routines, and our hearts. When they’re gone, the quiet they leave behind is real — and so is the grief. The reflection below, often shared by families who’ve loved and lost, captures why that bond matters so deeply.

“It’s Just A Dog” by Richard A. Biby

From time to time, people tell me, “lighten up, it’s just a dog,” or “that’s a lot of money for just a dog.”

They don’t understand the distance travelled, the time spent, or the costs involved for “just a dog.”

Some of my proudest moments have come about with “just a dog.”

Many hours have passed and my only company was “just a dog,” but I did not once feel slighted.

Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by “just a dog,” and in those days of darkness, the gentle touch of “just a dog” gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day.

If you, too, think it’s “just a dog,” then you probably understand phrases like “just a friend,” “just a sunrise,” or “just a promise.”

“Just a dog” brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust, and pure unbridled joy.

“Just a dog” brings out the compassion and patience that make me a better person.

Because of “just a dog” I will rise early, take long walks and look longingly to the future.

So for me and folks like me, it’s not “just a dog” but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future, the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment.

“Just a dog” brings out what’s good in me and diverts my thoughts away from myself and the worries of the day.

I hope that someday they can understand that it’s not “just a dog” but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being “just a man” or “just a woman.”

So the next time you hear the phrase “just a dog,” just smile, because they “just don’t understand.”