It was three years ago that my life changed forever because of a little dog.
On September 30, 2011, I walked out of Lollypop Farm, our local shelter, with my newest adventure: Dakota. I had always been a cat person, but on a whim, I decided I wanted a dog. I scoured their website until I found what I thought was the dog of my dreams: Bella, a pug. But fate had other plans. Dakota and I were meant to find each other, pug or not.
When I went to see Bella on September 29th, I learned she was on vet quarantine — no visitors allowed. Being stubborn and impatient, I wasn’t about to leave empty-handed. I saw a beagle (too yappy). I saw a puppy (too wild). And then I saw Dakota.
The second he strutted into the visiting room, my heart melted. His little bald butt (shaved from flea treatment) wiggled as he walked. He lifted his paw high, making it easy to scratch his belly. He was confident. Silly. Flawless — with those dangly teeth hanging out of his bottom lip. I laughed at his funny face, and I loved him instantly.
When they put him back in his cage, his sad face gutted me. How had he been waiting three weeks without being adopted? Was it his massive underbite? Maybe. But to me, it was perfection. In that moment, I knew there was a reason Bella wasn’t available. I would have adopted her based on breed alone. But Dakota was mine, and I was his. My doggy soulmate.
The next day, I came back to bring him home. I knew nothing about dogs, but it didn’t matter. He ran out of the shelter on his new leash and didn’t even look back. He hopped right into the car and onto my lap, ready for his new life. That was the first of many car rides with my little co-pilot. Life hasn’t been the same since.
And yes — Dakota makes my life more difficult than it probably needs to be. His separation anxiety is no joke. When he’s with people, he’s the sweetest, most relaxed pup. But the second he’s left alone, chaos erupts: barking, scratching paint off doors, accidents on the floor. Jerry and I often joke that we’re hostages in our own home unless we first drop him off at grandma’s. But even with the headaches, I wouldn’t trade him for the world.
Because here’s the thing: Dakota has taught me more about love and responsibility than I ever imagined. He was the one who taught me how to take care of another being, how to put someone else’s needs before my own — lessons I’ve carried into marriage and motherhood.
He has taught me what unconditional love looks like. No one on earth is as sad to see me leave or as overjoyed to see me come home. His little face in the window, waiting, is heartbreaking and reassuring all at once. He’s loved me through every season: when I was single, when I was dating, when I got engaged, married, pregnant, and beyond. He loved me when at my heaviest, and he loves me now. His love has never wavered. He doesn’t know how to hold grudges. He just loves, fully, every day.
So yes, he may be “just a dog,” but to me, he’s so much more. He’s my fur son. My joy-bringer. My comic relief. Sometimes I just look at his ridiculous face and laugh until my sides hurt.
So here’s to Dakota, on our three-year adoptiversary. It feels impossible that it’s only been three years — I can’t remember life without him. He is my most faithful friend, the best co-pilot, and one of the greatest joys of my life.
Even though he’ll turn seven soon, I’m looking forward to many more years of love and laughter with my best boy. Thank you, Dakota, for loving me through every change and never leaving my side. I promise I’ll never leave yours.
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