Good Guys Really Do Love Their Dogs

So I went to the gym today—later than planned, because the morning slipped away the way mornings sometimes do. It was an afternoon workout or none at all, and I wasn’t willing to let the day end without checking that self-care box.

I walked in carrying more than my gym bag. The headlines have a way of sneaking into your head, even when you’re determined not to let them get in front of you. I signed off from daily news channels years ago, once I recognized the loop—the outrage, the despair, the constant erosion of hope disguised as being “informed.” I haven’t missed it. Not one day.

And yet, even with the things I read these days—my Substack subscriptions, writers I trust—some stories insist on forcing their way through to even the smallest corners. The Epstein email release is one of them. I read just enough to feel sickened. Enough to be reminded, in the most unsettling way, that evil is alive and well, and that it knows no bounds.

That realization followed me onto the gym floor like a weight tied to my ankle. We want to believe people are inherently good. And most of the time, I still do. But you don’t have to read very far into those emails to accept that not everyone is.

It was with that thought in my head that I noticed a young guy—mid-twenties, maybe—walk into the gym. He looked like he belonged there: fit, focused, dressed in the recognizable uniform of weightlifters everywhere. Trotting in behind him was a little Frenchie dog, also dressed for the gym, wearing a hoodie sweatshirt that fit him perfectly. He followed his person without hesitation, without question. A regular, clearly.

The sight of them made me smile, and I went back to my routine until I ended up on a bench nearby. The guy had laid out a small mat for the dog to sit on, a little water bowl placed neatly at the corner. By then, my heart was fully snagged.

The dog watched intently as his person finished a set on the bench press. When the guy dropped to the floor for push-ups, the Frenchie hopped up, jumped onto his back, settled in, and together they completed a set. When they were done, the dog hopped down, returned to his mat, and waited patiently for the next round he’d be invited to join.

I smiled at the guy and said something like, Adorable. He smiled back and gave me a small heart sign—fist to chest.

And just like that, I was reminded of what inherently good people do.

They love their dogs. They show it without performance or pretense. They love their families—their children, their partners, the people entrusted to them. They try, in whatever ways they can, to give back. To acknowledge the blessings they’ve been given and leave the world a little better than they found it.

In that brief scene, the information the young man displayed told me everything I needed to know. How he lives. How he loves. What he contributes to the life he moves through.

There is evil in this world. I can’t deny it. But I won’t bow to it. I won’t see everything through its lens.

I choose one that allows me to be uplifted by a good guy who loves his dog.

I walked out of the gym thinking how easily we forget that people tell us who they are all the time—if we’re paying attention. In small moments. In how they love. In how they care for those who depend on them. The world may be darker than we want it to be, but it’s also far better in so many ways than the headlines would have us believe.

Today, I saw proof of that.

And I’m holding onto it.

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