Just a Dog

Amanda agreed, after hours and hours of conversation, that Rocket could stay at our house. In true best friend form, she said she wanted me to be happy and that's what mattered, (plus she knew that I would help the puppy, whatever that meant). Landlords approved. Lists of needs were made. Rocket would be picked up on the day we returned home, and he would live with us. We'd need a crate, food, collar, leash--nothing too fancy to start off, just the basics. He was growing so quickly. This last photo before our return shocked all of us. He'd turned into a giant overnight.

I was getting what I wanted, but my mind was crowded with expectations. It was just a dog. Just a decision. One that's made and unmade every day by hundreds of people. One that I'd wanted to make for so long. Australia was captivating, but as our trip began to wind down, all I wanted to do was get home to what felt like the possibility of a brand new way of life.

Anticipation

Rocket kept growing, getting more comfortable in his new surroundings while we were away. There was so much to look forward to, yet so much I feared. How old is he? How big is he going to get? What if Amanda says “no” to another four-legged roommate? What if the apartment really is too small? Where did he come from? What if he came from an abuse situation? Wait, what if he already has a home? Is anyone looking for him?

[insert screeching of brakes]

To clear the record, quite a few people spent time investigating the sudden appearance of Rocket. It was determined that he did not belong to anyone, he was a genuine stray in every sense of the word. But even as questions got answered, more sprung up in their place. What if we’re not a good match? What if I’m not ready for a dog? What if he doesn’t get better? Can I afford him? What if I move? What if he doesn’t like cats? What if he doesn’t like other dogs? What have I done?