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| https://www.barkpouch.com/product/variety-pack-50-gram-pouch/On Easter morning two years ago, my human woke up giddy and gleeful, certain I was meant to be her dog. She dreamt about me. The connection felt real. The joy we’d share seemed nostalgic, even though we hadn’t met yet. She knew I was her Mabel, her sweet, good girl. I had been living at my foster mom’s house since December, and my human declined to meet me at an event the month prior. She didn’t want a young dog; older dogs are harder to adopt, so she thought she needed that. Plus, I was soundly sleeping after a spay surgery, and she didn’t have the heart to disturb me. However, later that night, after a lovely chat with the rescue volunteers, my human accidentally chose me as the dog she was applying to adopt when she filled out the application, just planning ahead. And when Bobbie, the woman who runs the rescue, called, she responded kindly and compassionately to my human, saying, “Oh, I’m not ready,” my human thought, “When I am, I’ll reach back out to her.” Back to Easter morning, my mom’s an early bird (much to my dismay), so she made the bed, washed her morning dishes, checked her phone for the time, drank coffee, then checked again to see if it was a respectable hour to call someone on a Sunday morning. At 9:01 am, my human couldn’t wait any longer and left Bobbie the following message: “Hi, it’s Brandi, we spoke about Stella, she’s my dog. She visited me in my dreams and told me she’s meant to be my dog. Oh, can I please meet her? I know she’s my dog. Ok, thank you. Happy Easter.” When my human hung up the phone, she felt dread bubbling in her stomach. What a woo woo thing to say. And why didn’t she wait until later in the morning to call? Despite knowing how her message may have been perceived, the fact that it was a holiday, and rescue and shelter folks aren’t sitting around waiting for calls, my human nervously checked her phone repeatedly all day. Monday came and went without a return call. My human thought, “They’re busy caring for the animals.” On Tuesday, still no response, my human thought, “The animals are their top priority, but maybe I should have just said I wanted to meet Stella-now-Mabel.” By Wednesday, my human deduced that a quick follow-up call couldn’t hurt. Bobbie answered and thanked my human for checking back in. She had been dealing with a kitchen flood, so she was a bit tied up on top of her rescue responsibilities. And, well, a few days later, when I met my human and immediately jumped up next to her, butt-first-in-her-face on my foster mom’s sofa with a toy in my mouth, the certainty deepened, and the connection was real, even if it started in a dream. So, today, let me offer this: Savor every second with your sweet honey bunnies, no matter how they came into your life. When you doubt the path you’re plodding down, remember that the delayed return call may not be about you. When uncertain, 10 am or 11 am may be a more suitable time to call someone you don’t know on a Sunday morning. Want to spoil your honey bunnies? Try a Variety Pack! *This article also contains an affiliate link to one of my (Mabel’s) favorite toys. |