In the snap of a finger, life can change very fast.
For some time, my husband and I have been talking about getting a dog. We’d had one several years ago that we enjoyed, but we ran into problems with it. We were both still working, and then I had to start taking care of my granddaughter and parents. I was on the road constantly and had little time to spend with our pet. The dog was also getting older and developed some health problems. Though we loved him, we surrendered him to a Papillon rescue society, and we were assured he’d receive the care and attention he needed. It hurt to part ways, and for over a decade, I’ve felt the guilt and sadness of that decision. My husband was especially bonded to “Charlie,” and spoke about him frequently. I hoped that one day, we would try again.
Eventually, things changed. My parents passed away, and my granddaughter is now an independent teen, living an hour away, and no longer in need of childcare. Retired, and with more time on our hands, it seemed like a good idea to revisit having a pet. Plus, I’m in two writing critique groups, and my friends and I frequently write about dogs. The more I wrote and read about them, the more apparent it became that there was a void in my life. So, for months, I’ve been following a variety of breeders and animal shelters and studying the different dog breeds.
Then one day, there was this face posted on our local shelter’s Facebook page. It was a face that you couldn’t stop looking at. It belonged to a small dog—a youngish Yorkshire terrier, maybe 4 or 5 years old —and his owner had surrendered him. I knew he would get adopted quickly, and judging by the number of people responding to his picture with “I want him,” I knew my chances of getting him would be slim. I decided to let it go.
The next morning, my husband was busy. I felt like wandering, and that dog was still on my mind. I decided to drive over to the animal shelter and see what animals they had, hoping that face would still be there. When I got there, I was disappointed to learn he wasn’t there. He was, however, still available for adoption and was staying in foster care as the shelter was full of dogs. The shelter employee handed me an application and said that if I was interested, I could fill it out. “But I haven’t even met him yet,” I responded. “You can meet him after we process your application. If you don’t like him, you can pass,” the woman responded. I thought it was an odd way of handling things, but I complied. When I returned home, I told my husband what I’d done. He raised his eyebrows. “It’s probably not going to happen,” I said. “I don’t know,” Tom replied. “If they handed you an application, it sounds like there’s a good chance.”
I kept busy all day and tried not to get my hopes up. A day later, we got a call. It was the animal shelter. They asked if I could find someone to give me a character reference, since I didn’t have an established relationship with a local veterinarian. I called a friend and asked for help. And again, I kept busy and tried not to be too hopeful. But sure enough, we received the second call, “Buddy is ready for you, if you want to come meet him.” My hands began to shake, and my heart raced. I felt as though I was about to have a baby.
Quickly, my husband and I threw on our shoes and coats and raced to the shelter. Inside, we sat down, and from another room the shelter manager brought out the dog and dropped his leash. “Buddy” ran without hesitation to my husband. Tail stub wagging wildly. Tom lit up. It was love at first sight. Instantly, there was an electric connection with him, and we both knew our lives were about to change dramatically. “Yes, we want him,” I said. The clerk finished putting together the paperwork for us to sign, then told us to help ourselves to any supplies we might need. We grabbed some dog food, treats, and toys, paid our fee, and headed out the door. The dog was wiggly and ecstatic, and we were speechless— like two deer looking into headlights. After we got settled into the car, we headed to our nearby pet supply store to load up on other necessary pet gear, then home…
Much has happened in the last week. We have been learning about Harley (formerly known as Buddy), and he has been learning about us. We’ve learned that though he is young and energetic, he doesn’t care to play with toys. He’s far more interested in chasing our chickens and the backyard squirrels. Harley adores long walks and sniffing every inch of ground for information about who has traveled along his path. He is perfectly house-broken and lets you know if he needs a potty break. He loves treats and dental chew bones. He sleeps through the night, and tummy rubs, bathtime, and brushing are the best things in the world. It turns out that Harley is a “Velcro” dog, ever near and preferably touching you in some way, 90% of the time. He’s extremely well-behaved and always concerned about pleasing us. What I hope he’s learning about us is that we are constant, predictable, and safe. We reward him for being good, talk to and cuddle with him, take him on adventures, and, like him, we like to take afternoon naps. We think he’s pretty amazing, and we are stable. He doesn’t have to worry about being homeless again.
Adopting a dog from a shelter is much like adopting a child from another country that doesn’t speak your language. There is tension, fear, excitement, and struggle in communicating our pasts, our present, and our intentions. But what is clear is that with all new babies, be they children or pets, there is a giant desire to be understood and wanted that opens the door to our patience and diligence in accepting and giving to one another. There is a risk. You could screw up. But there is also a payoff? You become a strong, bonded family, ready to make new memories as you embark on a new path. And it all begins with a split-second decision to take the risk.
For this month’s book review, check out Before You Were Mine by Maribeth Boelts and David Walker, under Recommended Reads. It’s a sweet story about a newly adopted dog, and what his life might have been like before finding his new home. You can also find a Lost Puppy Maze on my Activities page.
Little Seeds Read 