Indulgence

In life, I've always appreciated having something to care for. I loved my pets growing up, and was thrilled to keep pet rats through college and the years afterward. My life has just never seemed complete without a small, furry companion along for the ride.

When the last of my male rats, Rizado, died at the end of January, I planned to hold off on getting new pets for the foreseeable future. At that point, I wasn't sure where I was going to do my fieldwork, or even, as a new TA, whether my schedule could handle a full course load, teaching, grading, and the enormous responsibility of caring for an animal.

So I let it sit. For a while, I was perfectly content with it. I missed the rats, and having a companion, but it was nice in some ways to be able to stay out late or have the freedom to travel for a few days without worrying about the pets needing attention. I live in a small apartment. I work a lot. I'm busy.

Several weeks went by. Winter turned to spring. The weather improved. I was busy, but my TA schedule did leave enough time for other things, when I planned correctly. I missed exercising-- running and being outside, and tried to convince myself to get out more. I made my decisions about fieldwork. I planned for the summer.

One day in early spring, a few weeks before spring break, I was riding the bus to campus. The weather was nice. Trees were starting to bloom. I was thinking about school. And suddenly, as if from nowhere, I was overcome with the sense that something was missing, and thought, I want a dog.

I've wanted a dog for years. Possibly decades. I loved the dog my family had when I was growing up. I was an in-home pet sitter for tens of people from the time I turned 10 until I had a fully-fledged, year-round business as a teenager. I worked at a dog boarding kennel. I volunteered at the animal shelter. I trained my friends' dogs basic commands, and later, the sport of dog agility.

I wanted a dog.

I dismissed the idea, as I had hundreds of times before. Too busy. Not enough space. Not the right time. Too expensive. What a silly idea. Maybe in a couple years, after I've finished classes.

But I couldn't shake it.

I gradually shifted from thinking, wouldn't it be nice to have a dog? to I need one. Turns out the site where I'd chosen to do my fieldwork was more or less dog-friendly. Students working in the area in previous years had brought their own dogs along. My apartment was dog-friendly. It would be safer for me to hike, camp, and travel with a dog. There will never be a 'right time.'

I started looking. Casually at first, and then with increasing seriousness. I looked a hundreds of dogs online. I visited 10 or 20 in person at local shelters. I wanted something active but mellow. I wanted an adult dog, on the smaller side of large. I liked things about them all, but each time, something held me back. Spring break came and went. I visited more dogs, but never made the decision to take one home. This one was nice, but too fearful. This one was confident, but too small. This one probably wouldn't be great with kids. This one wasn't good with other dogs. This one fixated on other animals. This one seemed great, but... not quite right, somehow. Better move on and look at something else.

I got to the point where I started wondering if I really did want a dog, since I couldn't seem to be able to actually pick one. Maybe it wasn't a great idea after all, and my subconscious was telling me so by keeping me from bringing one home. I sent out feeler emails to local shelters. One night, I spotted a particularly cute herding mix nearby. I emailed the organization about him. Could I meet him?

Nope. Sorry-- he'd already been adopted. But if I was interested in a herding mix, what about this guy? A puppy, teenager, really, recently saved from euthanasia at a high-kill county shelter nearby. Picked up as a stray, not claimed or adopted after two weeks. Fearful of some people, loud noises, other dogs. Just neutered. Probably not ready to go to a home yet, but you look like you have a lot of experience so maybe you'll foster him and try him out?

I went to meet him. I don't know what I was thinking. A puppy? Fearful? Not adopted after two weeks? I'd love to say that when I did meet him the skies opened up and sunshine rained down while angel choirs sung beautiful melodies because I'd found the perfect dog. In truth, I liked him, and he looked like he might work, but he was still clearly a puppy. Clumsy, excitable, goofy, still mouthy. However, unlike all the other dogs I'd met with, this time I didn't feel the uncertainty, the sense that something wasn't right, when I met him. Call it intuition, perhaps. I agreed to foster him for a week.

I brought him home. In the car, he fell asleep with his head in my lap. I introduced him to my landlord's dog. He licked her all over, fell into a play bow, and danced around. I brought him to my friend's house, and introduced him to their lab. Same thing. They ran and chased and wrestled for hours. He met people on the street, in my program, at my house. He greeted everyone like a long-lost best friend. He rode in my car. He learned to heel within 15 minutes. He came when I whistled. He laid down underneath the table at a dog-friendly bar with 50 other people and dogs and kids running around at happy hour on the fifth day I had him, like he'd been doing it for years. He relaxed while I was working, went running and hiking and to the dog park, stayed quiet and slept while I was away from the apartment, stayed nearby when let off-leash.

At the end of the week, I emailed the rescue organization. "I would be a fool to give this dog up."

In the weeks since I've had him, he's made friends with everyone I know, and all of their pets. He chases cats, but obeys when told to stay away. He goes nearly everywhere with me. He's crate-trained, and now knows sit, down, stay, come, shake, wave, sit pretty, spin, roll over, play dead, touch, crawl, jump, leave it, quiet, quit, and drop, and is getting ready for basic agility. He's learning to chase a frisbee and retrieve a ball. He'll wait patiently in the car or tied outside while I run errands. He follows me like a shadow.

Best. Decision. Ever.