Rescued

Last year after a painful, crippling breakup, when it seemed everything was falling apart with me and depression was creeping into my everyday life-- it was so easy to crawl into bed or under a blanket on the couch and lose a day or two-- then cancel plans to lose another day on purpose. At the time I already had cats as pets, three actually-- all rescues-- and they were comfort and entertainment, but they weren’t exactly heartbroken that I had chosen to hunker down and become a homebody.

On a day when one of my friends wouldn’t accept excuses, I agreed to meet her after the Christmas holiday for a late gift exchange. She had just gotten a puppy for her son, and on the way to meet her, I decided to stop by the local Petco to grab something for her new addition to the family.

As I drove into the parking lot, I saw several dogs from a local shelter in front of the store in various cages and dog pens, and I honestly contemplated not going in. Tears came way too easily at that time, and I always find it so heartbreaking to see these animals begging for a new home. It is also way too tempting as an animal lover to stop and get hooked on those little faces peering at you.

But as I turned into my parking space, I caught sight of a puppy, a large one. He was all white with one brown ear. I had the strangest, strongest feeling, I can’t explain it, but I thought, that is my dog. I shook my head and figured it was the depression talking, and decided that I was moving to a whole new level of crazy if I felt that I connected with a dog I didn’t need and couldn’t afford across 30 feet of asphalt.

I got out of my car and made my way closer and stood over this little wire playpen he was in and he caught my gaze. I sat down on the sidewalk and stuck my fingers through the bars and he came over and looked at me. Everyone was commenting on how beautiful and sweet he was. A nice couple came up and started giving him attention and I looked at the husband, who was next to me, and said, Please take this dog home, you will be doing me a favor. He responded, chuckling, that they were just looking. And then he said, I think this is your dog, anyway.

I made the biggest snap decision I have ever made. I told the volunteer I was going to adopt him and signed the paper, paid the fee, and went into the store to buy everything I needed. When I got all the puppy necessities I could think of loaded in my cart, I went up to the cash register to pay, and the cashiers were both teary and talkative. I said I was adopting a new puppy outside, and asked about a book of coupons I was supposed to get for new adoptions. Both cashiers hurriedly asked me which puppy? And when I told them, one of them came around and hugged me. Today was his last day, she explained, he was going to be put down if he wasn’t adopted by 3pm when the shelter loaded up the unwanted dogs and took them back. It was 1:30pm.

So, he left with me, and we got in the car to drive to meet my friend, and I looked over and thought, what have I done?

What I had done was brought a little being into my house that was having nothing of me laying around. He needed to go outside, he needed to be walked, he needed my constant, undivided attention. He needed to be comforted, fed, cared for, and watched constantly. He also brought some stress and frustration that any 12 week old puppy will, but it kept me busy, made me keep the house clean, made me move valuables out of paw’s reach. He got me out into the cold air, made me meet neighbors I hadn’t met in two years of living in my neighborhood. He got me talking to people at dog parks, and visiting my friends to show him off. He and the cats found common ground, and even became playmates and napmates. I named him Bear.

Any animal lover can relate, and even if you aren’t a dog person, there has to be some recognition of the connection and healing. I wasn’t ready to let any new person into my life to love, and I had even had trouble letting my close friends in on all the pain and sadness I was feeling. But, this little animal gave me no choice but to let him in. And it opened up my heart just enough to allow me to remember what it was like to love and be loved.

Even though I know I am biased, Bear is a beautiful dog. People will literally stop their cars when we are out walking to ask me what kind of dog he is. I love telling people that he is a mutt, a shelter dog, a shining example of why you don’t need to visit a breeder or buy a designer dog to get a gorgeous, wonderful companion.

There is a certain gratitude with rescue animals, I see it all the time. It is as if they know you saved them, and in small moments, there is such recognition from them of-- you rescued me—you saved me.

I rescued Bear in every sense of the word. I did save him.

And in return, he saved and rescued me.