I’ve always been a dog person. In fact, I’d go so far to say I’m more of a dog person than I am a people person.
I just think they’re wonderfully supportive, loyal, expressive creatures — not to mention cute, of course. Who wouldn’t want a friend to stick by your side?
About a year and a half ago, my boyfriend and I saw a story in the news: 64 puppies would be traveling from an overcrowded shelter in Mississippi to our hometown, looking for a home. My boyfriend and I had been thinking about adopting a dog, and we often talked about it in the abstract — maybe we’d get an older dog, maybe we’d look for this breed, etc. Seeing that news story more than piqued our interest, but we still weren’t sure. Was this the right time?
When the day arrived that the dogs were available for meet and greets, there were crowds at the shelter. In just a couple days, they were all on adoption holds.
I was surprised by how sad I was that I wasn’t one of them. I tried to reassure myself — there’s so many dogs in need of homes, and if it wasn’t one of those 64 puppies, there would surely be another, right?
Nevertheless, Saturday night that week, I checked the shelter’s list of dogs available for adoption, and there she was: a small Jack Russell named Hanna. (We would later find out she was not a Jack Russell, but that’s another story…) I emailed the shelter and sure enough, she was available — the family that originally wanted her likely changed their mind.
The shelter would be open the next day, and if we hesitated, she’d be gone. We considered if we wanted to go meet her, knowing full well that the second we met her, we wouldn’t want to leave her.
We went the next day as the shelter opened and left with adoption papers.
We picked her up two days later. She was a mere 4 pounds at the time; with the fierce Wisconsin cold in full force, we bundled her in a towel and took her home. As she scuttled around her new home, we gave her a new name: Lucy.
And it’s safe to say, life has never been the same.
