Empty nest + menopause: maybe it’s time for a dog

If I had any artistic ability, I would draw a cartoon map of my town. And on every street and wooded trail, a middle-age woman would be walking her dog. 

I was out for a run last night on a network of trails near my house. It was around 5 p.m., so the only people I passed were women my age who didn’t have kids to pick up from sports practice or a family dinner to make. But what they did have was a dog to walk.

I noticed this because I’m paying close attention. Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I have laser vision for women in the same stage of life as me. I want to know what’s working for them—how are they rearranging the pieces? 

In my casual surveillance, one thing I’ve noticed is that most of us are committed to an exercise routine—and we often go at it alone. I see more 50 to 70-year old women out walking and running solo than any other demographic. The other thing I’ve noticed is that after the kids leave, if we didn’t have a dog, we get one. And if we already had a dog, we get another one. 

I remember the same phenomenon when my youngest child went to kindergarten. All of the women in town whose kids were now in full-time school got a puppy. We needed something to fill the void. Of course, at the time we all said we got the dog for the kids. I mean, every well-adjusted American kid needs a dog, right? But the truth is we got them as much for ourselves as for anybody else. 

Our one-and-only dog, Zipper, died during the fall of our daughter’s senior year in high school. I was happy he made it that long. He was about 14. I’ll never forget how “flat” the house felt after he was gone. I missed his bright energy, the sense of purpose he gave to my mornings and nights, and most of all, his companionship. Less than a year later, our daughter left for college and that “flat” feeling just grew.

Since losing Zipper, it hasn’t made sense to get a new dog. We’re on the road more than before—visiting each child in their new towns, and kennels are crazy expensive these days. And I admit that I’m also a little nervous that any future dog would be a huge disappointment after Zipper. He was one of those canine gems. 

But I’m starting to think that all the sacrifice and unknowns of a new pet might be worth it. I understand why women rush out and get a dog, or add to their dog family, when the house empties of humans. We’re going through a lot, and we need the support. 

The double whammy

I was braced for the sharp adjustment of the “empty nest,” because people started throwing out warnings the day my youngest started middle school—“Get ready! It’s coming!” What I wasn’t expecting was the sinister overlap of the empty nest and perimenopause. This took me completely by surprise. I guess it’s easier on the soccer sidelines to share lighthearted wisdom about the incoming emotional letdown of the kids leaving home than to joke about the effects of plummeting estrogen.

Most women in my inner circle are struggling with various symptoms of perimenopause, from hot flashes to insomnia to “low mood”—a feeling that lies somewhere between depression and “eh.”

We also struggle with periods of loneliness. A lot of us are more isolated than we’ve been in decades. Our houses are empty and many of us work remotely most if not all of the time. No longer thrust together with other parents at birthday parties and sports events, we can go days without a meaningful connection with friends.

To deal with all of this and get over the “hump” of perimenopause, some of my friends have turned to HRT; I’m just not quite ready to pull the trigger.

For now I’m resorting to natural remedies. Exercising even when I don’t feel like it because it helps me sleep. Eating lots of nuts and seeds and protein and buying ridiculously expensive supplements that are supposed to support hormonal health. And turning my bedtime routine into a religious practice, because, once again, menopause survival is much ado about sleep. 

I’ve also been trying my best to prioritize time with friends, because my female friendships are a lifeline during this awkward transition. The only problem is that I’m an introvert at heart, and so I fizzle out before I’ve gotten my fill of female companionship. I can do a few hours a week, but anything more than that and I need a full day in a sensory deprivation tank. 

Which brings me back to the idea that it might be time for a dog. They don’t require the same level of emotional energy as people do, and yet they provide that lift in mood and companionship that I crave. So along with the bedtime “personal climate-control system” I just ordered to make night sweats easier to bear, I may have to bridge the gap with a dog. 

Of course, no one knows how long that bridge needs to be—from here to whenever the perimenopause arc officially ends. Everything I’m reading suggests it could be a decade-long construction project. In which case …I better get a puppy.