You'll Never Know...

I was doing really well. I was keeping it together like any grown-up does (do adults call themselves grown-ups? Probably not but this 25-year-old does and will continue to do so). I walked out the door of the vet's office, unlocked my car, sat down, shut the door, and lost it. Seriously. I was full on ugly crying. I envy those who can look somewhat normal when they cry, god forbid, pretty.

At this point, I am sure those of who are reading this (thank you for making it this far) are probably thinking, "Oh my goodness, did her dog die? Did he come down with some horrible life-altering disease? Did she have to give him up for some god-awful reason that is too hard to explain?" The answer to all of those questions is no. Bear is not dying or ill and he is still with me. The other day, I had to bring him in to get a procedure done on his eye. He had an ulcer on his cornea that was not healing properly and he had to have it removed so I now I have a little pirate pooch for two weeks. It was a simple surgery. The veterinarian was clearly qualified to do it. So why was I so upset?

Have you ever had something you care for so deeply that you literally cannot find the words to tell others how you feel? Have you ever had something your life that made it 1,000,00 times better? That's what Bear is to me. He is my old man labradoodle that loves chicken jerky, chasing sprinklers, and says hello by jumping into your arms like a baby kangaroo (some people find that annoying but I, for one, love coming home to a good hug. And those people who do find it annoying, are no longer welcome in my home.).

Bear came into my life kind of by happenstance. When I graduated college and moved back home, I was begging for a dog! Now, some of you may be thinking, "Why did you have to beg? You're an adult! Do what you want!". When I moved back home, I literally moved home. I went to college out of state and when I came back to Colorado, I moved back in with my mom (which a lot of people do so if you scoffed at that statement, think again.) So I had to beg her. She made a lot of good points. I wasn't home a whole lot and she was afraid I didn't know how much a pet cost. Soon enough she cracked and let it happen. I have a family friend that breeds Labradoodles and we had actually gotten our previous dog from her. She had retired her oldest female "mom" and we took her in for the last half of her life. We had the best time with her, however, when we got her I soon went off to college and she went to live with my sister so she really wasn't mine. At this point in my life, all I wanted was something that was entirely my own.

So I went back to my family friend and asked her if she had any older Labradoodles she was thinking of retiring and she told me she did. She had two females and a male. As she showed them to me and let me hang out with them, I think she was really hoping I would take one of the females. They were great but there was something about Bear. You know how people who adopt dogs from shelters sometimes say, "I didn't choose him/her, they chose me."? Well, that's exactly what happened here. Bear ran a circle around me while I sat in the middle of the backyard and then he came up to me, looked at me with a tilted head, kissed me and then promptly pressed his head into my chest. It was almost as if he was giving me a hug. I knew. He was mine. And I was his.

For days after, everyone we met kept saying things like, "He is just smitten with you", and "You two make a great pair". Nothing has changed. I have had him for almost a year now and whenever people talk about me, Bear is always attached to my name in the conversation. People always ask how he is doing just as you ask how a parent or husband is doing. He completes me.

He had completely changed my life for the better. I spend the money I make on him. I say no to going out or to functions if he can't come. I own a hat that says "Dog Mom" on it and wear it proudly. All my pictures in my phone are of him doing absolutely nothing but looking insanely cute nonetheless. He is my emotional support dog (not technically but I could probably make it happen if I talked to a medical professional). Those all may seem like negative things but, to me, they are the most positive things in my life and I do not think twice about doing them. He is the constant in my ever-changing life that I so desperately needed and had no idea.

I hope he knows. I hope he understands that I love him so stinking much there are literally no words. Dogs don't have voices so we have to be theirs. This can be difficult. Hard decisions have to be made with their feelings taken into consideration. But what are those feelings?! One of my coworkers had said that if I wasn't so neurotic about my dog, I probably wouldn't have noticed his eye at all. Is that what my love is being mistaken as? Neuroticism? If that's the case then I will never stop. I will never stop being a crazy dog mom to the boy that changed my life. I won't change anything if I can still wake up to wet-nose kisses and go to sleep to furry cuddles in bed with adventure in between.