Who Has the Dog?

We finally left Antarctica late Sunday afternoon and made it back to Chile. By the time we landed, the weather had delayed other travelers. Rooms were gone. People were scattered across town. I was sent to a downtown hotel. When I arrived, no reservation. No room. Just a tired traveler and a front desk with bad news.

Eventually, the expedition team found something. It wasn’t fancy, but it worked. The bookends of the trip were challenging at best. The ten days in between were my best travel experience (so far).

Anytime I travel, someone asks, “Who has the dog?”

It sounds small. It isn’t.

It’s shorthand for a larger question: Who is holding your life together while you are away — your home, your responsibilities, your financial affairs, your decisions?

When I left, I knew the dog was handled. I knew the house was fine. I knew they could text if something went sideways. I knew my support structure had everything under control.

After years of family upheaval and hard seasons, my life is steadier now. The inner circle is clear. My nieces and a small group of people I trust completely are already involved. They take their roles seriously. They are already practicing my getting old. Good luck, ladies.

I had also made myself update my “death book” before I left. Every account. Every password location. Every instruction. Not because I expected to die in Antarctica, but because peace comes from knowing your life is documented and organized. If something happens, someone competent can step in.

A “death book” may be the greatest practical gift you can give your family. It will never be perfect. Something will be outdated. Something will be missing. But it gives them a starting point. A roadmap instead of a scavenger hunt.

That is not morbid. It is adulting.

The same was true with the organizations I serve. I could step away because responsibility is shared. If your life cannot run without you for two weeks, that isn’t strength. It’s fragility.

After a major event, a big trip, a wedding, a surgery, a retirement, a crisis, the visible part is the headline. The photos. The story. The celebration or the stress.

The invisible part is infrastructure.

Who steps in? Who knows the details? Who carries the load when you cannot?

If you have children, I hope they are learning to support you now, not just someday. If you don’t, or if they are not in that role, then the question is even more important. Who is in your inner circle? Who would take over if needed? Who already does?

As we age, the circle often gets smaller. That is not a failure. It is clarity. Not everyone is meant to remain in the center. Some people are companions. Some are structural. Or one of my favorite phrases, “people are in your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.”

You can travel to the end of the earth. You can stand on a continent made of ice. You can handle missed flights and missing hotel rooms.

But none of us does any of it alone.

So, I’ll ask you what I ask myself before every major departure:

Who has the dog?