I have bruises all over now, little circular spots dotted green and blue across my arms and my thighs. Red welts flourish across my hands and my chest, some small cuts scabbing over .
My legs are tired and my feet ache from daily walking, and snoozing my 7:30 alarm is not an option anymore.
My bank accounts are dry and my wallet is thin, and my floor is littered with turkey tendons and lamb tracheas.
Stuffing and chewed plastic squeakers create a minefield in my backyard, and there is a faint aroma of shit in the air now.
I never did use the kitchen, it’s always been hard for me. But now every day I clean the pan and scramble an egg and clean the pan and mix water with freeze dried dog food.
I am responsible, now, for him. For keeping him fed and clean and exercised and happy. And I always struggle to get things done, but him, my dog, he is not a chore.
Before I got a dog I watched so many videos of new puppy parents or shelter adopters, and so many voices groaned and warned of the trenches, of the tears and frustration and exhaustion.
But I don’t feel it. Everything I do for him is a privilege and an addition to my life. He jumps and sneezes and snuffles and whines when I come home, and every time he sees me it is no different.
How could I ever regret him? His little body curled against me on the couch, or wiggling on his back in my lap, his soft head butting into my stomach and grunting with happiness, everything he does makes me a happier person.
The bruises from his excited jumps and his paws slamming into me are marks of love. The welts from his claws slipping against my arms as he plays and leans on me are reminders of our fun.
Our neighborhood walks give me fresh air, and we enjoy the time wandering together. My legs ache, but it is a good ache, because they ache from time spent with him.
I never liked waking up early, but now I’m rewarded with the happiest greeting, and I’m excited to wake up to it.
Money is tight, but it always is, and there is nothing I would rather spend it on than his happiness.
His treats and his toys make a mess, but it’s a mess I always wanted to have in my life, and every dirty bone or torn toy is confirmation that I finally have a dog of my own.
The kitchen was always a scary place, but for him I am learning to be comfortable there, and because of him I know I will try harder to cook.
Adopting my dog was the best decision and the most amazing privilege I could have ever asked for, and he has changed my life for the better, as I knew he would.
When I hold my dog, or I walk him or feed him or play with him, I feel lighter. I see my younger self, I see her pleading for a puppy, and I know that even so young, she knew how impactful a dog would be. When I hug my dog, I feel just a little bit like I’m hugging that child, the one with so many feelings and so much confusion, and I tell her, you weren’t silly for wanting this. You weren’t silly for thinking this would save you.
Because here I am now, with a dog and a fullness in my heart that I always knew could be there.
Me and Guzzie<3
