Had anyone told me that a playful, chocolate-brown Doberman puppy would eventually transform my life, I would have found that hard to believe. However, that’s precisely what occurred when I took Jager home. He is now six years old—and more than just my closest companion, he is also my psychiatric service dog.
I’ve always had a fondness for dogs. I was raised alongside them, and my parents operated a small pet shop and grooming service. Hence, bringing a puppy home seemed instinctive. However, at that time, I was unaware that this playful little dog, who nibbled on shoes, tore apart pillows, and consumed socks, would develop into something much greater.
At about six months, Jager began to recognize when I was feeling anxious. He would rest in my lap, nuzzle me with kisses, and attempt to soothe me. At that moment, I understood he could potentially achieve greater things. I enrolled him in obedience classes, and it soon became obvious he only wanted to make me happy. He absorbed each lesson. Eventually, with regular training, he officially turned into my service dog.
I experience bipolar disorder, PTSD, and generalized anxiety. Jager’s primary responsibility is DPT—deep pressure therapy. It feels as if you’re wrapped in a loving weighted blanket. When I feel anxious or start to panic, he will rest on my lap or chest and provide pressure, aiding me in calming down. He has been my steadfast support and reliable friend through it all. Thus, when I discovered I was expecting, I was certain Jager would be by my side. He attended all the appointments and ultrasounds. I frequently contemplated how he would respond to the baby. Would he be kind? Interested? What actions would he take when the infant wept? All the usual concerns of a first-time mother whirled in my mind.
When labor commenced, Jager was prepared—composed and focused as ever. He was adored by nurses and doctors. For two extended days of toil, he remained by my side, providing solace during each contraction with a nuzzle or gentle kiss. On the third day, I required a C-section. As they rolled me away, I shot Jager a quick wink and murmured farewell.
The delivery was uncomplicated, and shortly after, my son, Keller Monraux Morton, came into the world—7 pounds, 9 ounces, and 19.5 inches of sheer affection. As I was taken back, cradling my newborn, Jager was the first to welcome me. The infant wailed, and Jager raised his ears in intrigue. I could nearly hear him asking, “Who’s this little, loud new puppy?”
In the hospital room again, the three of us started discovering how to function as a family. Bouncing back from significant surgery while looking after a newborn is extremely challenging—nobody prepares you for how draining it genuinely is. I felt anxious and overloaded about returning home. How can I accomplish all of this by myself? That’s when I sensed Jager’s icy snout touch my arm. He gazed at me with eyes brimming with affection, conveying, “You’re not alone, Mom.” “I have you.” He gently licked Keller on the forehead and sat quietly next to us. That instant overwhelmed me with a level of love and comfort beyond words. Jager was my first child—my furry child—and now he was present for us both.
The weeks following the birth were difficult. I experienced postpartum depression. Certain days I wept continuously or felt overwhelmed by worry. However, Jager supported me. He brought bottles and diapers, and above all, he paid attention. He didn’t require speech—simply existing there was sufficient. His presence made me realize I could continue.
A month has passed since Keller’s birth. Life appears entirely different, yet I wouldn’t exchange it for anything. I wish for him and Jager to develop into best friends as they grow. Since Jager is more than just a dog. He is part of the family. He has been my support during mental health struggles, my solace during pregnancy, and my source of strength in early motherhood.
He’s my most precious treasure right next to my son.
