04/01/2026
Thunder is our Dog of the Month this April. Today would have been his birthday — and it’s the first April 1 without him.
Thunder. Funder. Tundy. T-Bird. Handsomest. Angel. Baby Boy. Pumpkin. Bubba. Littest Babiest Boyiest. Hunny. Sweetie. Prince. Bud. Fundy-Dundy. Thuner.
After graduating college, I was on a quest to find a dog to bring home. I looked at hundreds of dog pictures online. When I saw his picture, I knew we were meant to be together.
I met him — he was the biggest boy in his litter. Shy, reluctant to engage. I remember his paws. They were so big.
At that time in my life, being in my twenties, I was a different person. There were many people around us who wanted to engage with him, love him, be part of his world. And I remember thinking… does he know I’m his mom? That I will be with him forever? That when all these people go on their own paths, it will be me tucking him in each night? I wondered if he understood the gravity of that, the way I did.
As my very first dog, I learned so much from him — he was my greatest teacher. We went through many classes together. Teachers would often comment that we could teach the class ourselves and would give us more and more work. We even brought other dogs to class to make it more challenging.
Thunder began helping other dogs learn, and I began teaching and training others as a student, recognizing that Thunder needed more.
It was fascinating to me how easy it was for Thunder to perform in classes, how naturally he grasped concepts. The amount of time and intention I put into our relationship made learning new things look like magic. We could be taught something new and execute it immediately, beyond what anyone expected.
I was incredibly dedicated. Thunder was intelligent, thoughtful, motivated, and deeply attuned. We moved through the world like that.
Where I went, Thunder went. I had several jobs at the time, and every time I applied somewhere, I made it a requirement that I could bring him with me sometimes. He did everything with me — even riding as my co-pilot in snow plow trucks and spending time with me caring for a home full of cats at a breeder’s house, surrounded by so many cats that it became its own little world.
I was caught off guard when he began reacting to dogs at the dog park — snapping, barking, air biting, growling, showing teeth, sometimes biting. I didn’t understand.
I asked everyone I could think of. Please help — what should I do? I spoke to vets, rescues, trainers, pet stores, online forums — anyone who would listen.
Everyone seemed just as confused.
That’s when I was introduced to balanced training.
Thunder helped me realize that sometimes we need a different way to communicate with animals. We were at a breaking point after he began biting and drawing blood. It was becoming harder to manage, and I knew he was stressed.
But even then, I realized that what I was seeing didn’t fully align with my values either.
That’s why — and how — I created my own path, and eventually my own company, Well Balanced Dog Training.
This work is, and always has been, for my Angel, Thunder. For the dogs who need clear communication without punishment, without shame. Thunder was with me through every step of that journey.
And he kept teaching me, even as he got older.
When I first started my training company, I built him a space behind the desk so he could feel safe and separate from the other dogs. He didn’t like that.
So I rented a small office in the back. He didn’t like that either.
Then I tried a different small office in the building. Still, he didn’t like that.
And that’s when I understood.
He didn’t want to be there anymore.
He wanted to be home.
That was a different kind of love he taught me — choosing his needs over my desire to have him with me.
He spent his final years like a king. Napping. Eating. Living his life at home. And every once in a while, when he felt like it, he would come to work like a celebrity making an appearance. People would always ask me, “Where’s Thunder?” “Am I going to get to meet Thunder?”
He’s always with me. He always will be.
He is a part of who I am — which means everyone who works with me knows him too. That kind, patient old man who wouldn’t hesitate for a second to stand up to a bully.
Thunder wasn’t just part of my life. He was woven into every moment of it. I loved how the top of his head smelled. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. He was the best cuddler in the world — always finding a way to press himself into me, resting his little chin on my body like that’s exactly where he belonged. He was always between me and everything else. If I sat on the couch, he sat between me and the other person. On a blanket, same thing — right in between.
I didn’t fully understand it at the time, just how constant it was. But he was always there. Anywhere I was, Thunder was.
I can still hear his little tip taps on the floor, following me from room to room. His little huffs when he settled.
Sometimes he would guide me — walking me to the kitchen for snacks, or reminding me it was time to feed him. If I wasn’t home, he would follow Amanda or Alexander around, waiting until I came back. He had a way of making himself part of everything. He made sure everyone finished their food, checking every bowl, cleaning up every last crumb. We never had to worry about anything left on the floor — Thunder handled it.
His charm got him more treats than I’ll ever admit.
And his face… his eyebrows, his eyes. That’s what it was. One look at him and I just melted. That’s how I knew we belonged together. His ears stayed soft like puppy fur his entire life.And his kisses — always so gentle, so intentional. He didn’t give them to everyone. Only to the ones he truly loved.
Thunder, I cannot tell you how painful it is that you’re not here right now.
Thank you for the life we shared together. For the memories I will carry with so much warmth.
Thunder, I love you. Always, my angel.
Meaghen MacDonald
