Two Years

Two years ago, my human’s heart was broken after saying goodbye to her Angel, Gavin, a few months prior. When we met, she knew my silliness and sweetness would help heal her soul and discover the person she’s meant to be with me by her side, nibbling her ears or grabbing her slipper when I’m ready to move before she’s finished her coffee.

What she didn’t know as I sat on her foot and heard my foster mom of five months say, “you can’t go with her yet,” was that my spirit and body needed mended and soothed in ways only compassion, connection, time, and a lot of veterinary visits would allow.

I woke her up one night, unable to breathe, and as she scrambled to gather her things so we could go to the emergency room, I blew snot rockets all over her, our sheets, and the wall. She was grateful for the grossness and our usual veterinarian getting us in quickly the next day to treat my respiratory infection.

And, goodness, did I repeatedly break her brain with my stress reverse sneezing and paw licking? Yes, I have allergies and am on prescriptions for seasonal itchy scratchies (that takes time to figure out), but when I couldn’t settle myself, even after walks, training, and some good ol’ ripping or chewing, I’d intensely gnaw and nibble my front left paw. She worried so much back then.

Speaking of worry, that’s one of the things I’m helping my human let go. Her Gavin had cancer, a heart condition, and anxiety, but was the sweetest, most loving wiggle worm you ever met. But she lived, worried about him.

I’m helping her learn that worry isn’t love. As she softens and finally figures out what downtime and relaxation feel like, I stretch out a lot more and blowfish breath before I stretch out again real big and lay my head on her lap.

Now, when we sit in our yard together, I peek under the fence a few times if someone else is outside, but I also often just calmly check things out, gnaw on my bone, grab a toy, jump in my pool, or nestle next to my human on the outdoor sofa. 

It didn’t take a full two years for me to settle in. And, even while I was learning I was safe and secure, no matter what, I knew my human loved me and well, the fun we’ve had, the joy we make, and the treats I get to eat, I trust there’s much more in my (hopefully) many years with the lady who loves me lots. 

So, today, I’d like to offer this: If your dog(s) are still settling in, please trust that what you’re doing is helping. Know that every fun training session teaches them they’re seen and loved, even if it’s unclear. And give yourself a little extra self-love for having the compassion to meet a sentiment being where they are and giving them the space and time to blossom in ways we all deserve.

Our friends Piko and Dimitra have a few good things to say about us (thank you, we’re gushing).

*This article also contains affiliate links to one of my (Mabel’s) favorite toys.