She Made Me a Mom

When we finally decided to add a dog to our family, after twelve years together, it was a big deal. We’d waited for a variety of reasons, from being unable to afford a pet deposit on our apartment, to moving and changing jobs, and not wanting the added responsibility. Dog dad and I were both raised with pets, and knew someday we wanted to have our own.

It just never seemed to be the right time. And then we didn’t agree on the size, breed, or type of dog to get. He wanted a black lab, because they’re “the smartest dogs.” I reminded him that his sister’s black lab, Shadow, didn’t realize I was the same person if I left the room and came back again. I wanted a chihuahua or a miniature pinscher, something about the size of my dogs (and also my cats) growing up. He insisted that “real dogs” have to be bigger than cats.

In an attempt to compromise, I started researching medium-sized dogs. I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t looking for the cutest, most aesthetically pleasing dogs first. I was. But I didn’t stop at cute. I looked at their needs for exercise, their trainability, their grooming needs, and any special health concerns with each of my favorite breeds. I kept coming back to herding dogs - heelers and Aussies most of all.

Several of my friends questioned me, or even tried to dissuade me from choosing a herding dog as a new dog owner. As much as a bristled at it then, I am glad the dog lovers in my life were asking me questions, making me think about the decision I was making. So many people make the choice of a new dog without taking into consideration how compatible the dog’s needs are with their lifestyle, and it’s always the dog who pays the price.

I found the perfect dog. She was three years old, mottled blue and white, and described as a heeler mix by the rescue. I looked at her, and immediately I named her Stormy, for her coat that looked like stormy gray skies. I dreamed that night of how she and I would go running, and how she would curl up beside me in bed each night.

When I called the shelter the following day, to ask about meeting her, they informed me that she’d been adopted. Adopted. Gone, just like that. My little Storm was gone, before she ever knew I loved her. I was stricken, and I downright refused to be consoled. Everyone told me the same thing, “she wasn’t meant to be yours,” but it didn’t help. In fact, I wanted to spit in their faces and swear off ever adopting a dog in my life.

Lucky for me, I didn’t swear it off. I dared to look again. And it was only a few weeks later that a smiling face jumped off the page at me again: “St. Patrick’s Holly.” It was a grainy photo, obviously taken on a crappy cell phone, but…her smile stopped me in my tracks.

I called the woman at the rescue at the same time I was sending her an email inquiry. I didn’t care that it was past seven, and probably a bit late to be calling a stranger. I didn’t give a damn. That was my dog and I knew I’d never forgive myself if I never saw that smile again.

As luck would have it, I was the first of a handful of potential adopters to call that very same night, which gave me the first to meet Holly first. And when I did, there was no question that I loved her more than anything in the world. She walked right up to me, put her paws up onto my thighs, and smiled at me. She tucked her ears back, and that was the end of it. I belonged to her.

I talked to her the whole way home.

I love you, Holly. More than anything. There will never be a day that I don’t love you, no matter what. You are my whole heart, and I’ll do anything for you.

And every night when we go to sleep, I repeat these same affirmations to her. I just never want her to fall asleep not knowing how dearly she is loved. I do vary the script a bit, depending on how emotional I’m feeling that day. Sometimes I have a few things to add, like how proud I am of her for what she’s learned and accomplished, but the core of it never changes.

Being Holly’s mom is awesome. She always wakes up smiling and happy to greet a new day. She believes in spending time outside, enjoying the simplest of pleasures, like a fresh breeze or a new smell. And it never takes much for today to be the best day ever, because “today” is always the day she’s most interested in. She greets new situations with confidence, and strangers as new friends. She takes frequent breaks for water and snacks, or just to be outside in nature. She truly has made me a healthier, happier person, and a kinder one too. How can you not smile with her face smiling back at you? You can’t. Trust me.

She is my heart. She is also ready for another walk…so that is what we’ll do.