Follow the Dog

The game had no rules except one: follow Duke wherever he led.

Each day with Duke, my half-collie and half-German shepherd companion, was a celebration as he led me across the mountain to hidden creeks where I drank icy water with my hands.

One morning, the sky turned white — no trail, no tree line, no sense of direction. The mountain had disappeared in a blanket of snow. I might have died that day had Duke not led me home.

Ask most dog owners why they love their animals and they’ll reach for the same word: unconditional. When a dog looks into your eyes, your brain releases oxytocin — the same hormone that drives the bond between mother and newborn. The remarkable thing is that the dog’s brain does the same: researchers found this mutual gaze creates a feedback cycle of love and trust between species.

Dogs were the first animals humans ever domesticated — the only large carnivore we ever befriended. Archaeological evidence places them beside us nearly 16,000 years ago; in Germany, a dog was found buried with evident care alongside two humans. Not discarded – buried together.

For children especially, that bond can be something more than affection. A growing body of research has found that dogs can serve as primary attachment figures. In a study of 160 children who had experienced neglect, abuse or traumatic loss, secure attachment to a pet was four times more common than secure attachment to a human caregiver.

The current criminal investigation of the animal rescue in Fortuna that had marketed itself for years as a no-kill safe haven for dogs and other animals represents a betrayal of that fundamental bond between us and our animals. Hundreds of “rescued” animals have been found to have been shot and buried there; more than 700 dogs sent to the rescue since 2025 remain unaccounted for. In a barn, authorities found more than 600 dog collars.

This is a brutal aberration of the relationship I know between humans and dogs. For me, on any given morning in the mountains, long before I knew the science of dogs, a 7-year-old girl already knew the game: I called it Follow the Dog.

Duke led me through pines and cedars and along creeks. And when the snow came down so thick I couldn’t see my hand in front of me, Duke led me safely home. He always did.

Michele Francesconi lives in Trinidad.