"I don't want another dog," I said as we walked along the rows of kennels at the animal shelter. Tears stung my eyes and I quickly batted them away. "It's too soon."
My husband gave me a reassuring pat, murmuring words of encouragement as he headed out the door and into the outside play area. He was excited, the idea of adding to our family forcing a huge grin across his face.
I paused in front of the first kennel of the second row, memories I wasn't prepared for slapping me in the face. Ten years ago I had stood in front of this very kennel and laid eyes on my best friend for the first time. Three days ago I said goodbye to her for the last.
We met the dogs and I loved them all, as I have a tendency to do. But I didn't want to bring any of them home. I didn't need a dog. My dog was gone and the pain left behind was unbearable. And we had another dog at home. Rocket, a silly little three-year-old mutt that loves to sleep on my feet at night and can run like the wind. He would be our only dog now. He was all we needed.
My husband was relentless. He had fallen for a large dog named Sarge. Some kind of German Shepherd/Mastiff mix with a head the size and shape of shoebox.
"This dog doesn't even like me," I said through tears as we met Sarge in the room meant for visitors that were seriously considering adoption.
Despite my tears and apprehension, we adopted Sarge and changed his name to Drax. And I have yet to regret even a minute of my life with him.
Drax came with a tragic past, as do many shelter dogs. He was left at a kill shelter in Texas and scheduled to be euthanized. The fact that they were going to put a one-year-old dog down simply because no one wanted him sickens me. Thankfully our shelter here in Nebraska stepped in and took Drax. He remained in the shelter here for six weeks before he went home with us. Sometimes you might not need a dog, but you might be exactly what a dog needs.
Rescuing a dog isn't always easy. Often times they come with baggage from a life that you can't even imagine and it can take weeks, or even months, for them to feel comfortable enough with you to let their true colors shine. That's where we are with Drax. It's been ten weeks since we brought him home and I'm finally starting to feel like he's going from roommate to family member. We are learning each other's quirks and working out the kinks. Drax is a high energy dog that has no clue he's huge. He requires a lot of patience and that's alright because I have a lot to give.
Adopting a ridiculous dog turned out to be a good thing for a broken heart. Drax in no way has replaced Sadie. No dog ever could. There will always be a hole in my heart. The hole used to be raw and messy, erupting without warning. Drax has managed to cover the hole with slobber and cuddles. It's still there. It still hurts. But I'm not dealing with it alone.
I said from the beginning that Drax wouldn't be my dog. Despite my words of warning he tries his best to prove me wrong. Poking me with his nose when he wakes in the morning. Following me through the house and yard while I work. Sleeping under my feet while I write. Knowing when I need him to be silly and when I just need him to be there existing beside me.
These past three months have taught me so much about love and loss and the amazing gift that is the affection of a dog.
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