Some people never find the right person. Wonderful, solid relationships elude them due to their own issues, timing, or their choice of partner. Broken hearts travel through life wishing, wondering what it will take to have what everyone else seems to have found.
I’ve spent my life feeling this way about dogs. My past is littered with sad, unfulfilled, canine failures. I wasn’t ready, I picked the wrong breed, bought the dog for the wrong reasons, or just didn’t take the time. I have always admired well behaved, mutually loving relationships between humans and their best friends.
After a slew of bad relationships, I took myself off the market. Told myself the hot tea on a rainy day with my dog curled beside me fantasy was not in my cards. I convinced myself I wasn’t a dog person, or a pet person for that matter.
For a little over a year, I have been thinking of trying again. I’ve researched every breed on the planet. I know things about dogs and puppies no one really needs to know. If I was going to put myself out there, ask a dog to trust me again, I could not make a mistake.
I went back and forth, telling myself I was great with a less complicated, older children, life. I didn’t want to be tied down, but that nagging “missing out” feeling kept creeping in. Two weeks ago, I went to meet Jack and his family. His brothers and sisters jumped around and Jack slowly came up to my hand. I picked him up and I knew.
I knew I would be willing to help him transition away from his pack. I knew I could give time, go without sleep and makeup for a few months. I knew I would clean up his mess, repeat things hundreds of times, set boundaries. I knew I would invest, hike with him, love him and keep him safe.
What I was not prepared for this weekend, when I finally brought Jack home, was what he would give me in return. Puppies sense your energy, so it’s important to be calm around them. I haven’t been calm since 198…well ever. Jack slows me down, his bowel movements and feeding times have become so important, very little else gets on my nerves. He makes me laugh and keeps me focused on our pack.
Jack and I sat outside last night at around 3:30 in the morning and I noticed sounds, stars, his breathing, even when the air conditioner kicks on. The light is incredible in the middle of the night.
I worked on myself, learned from past mistakes and waited. Jack is a Brittany. He’s the right size for me, the right temperament and the right energy level. All of those things are so important. I paid attention this time. Jack is a gift. We are nowhere near the hot cup of tea or the curling up, but we are on our way.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Night, Jack.