THIS Dog

During the summer, my kids want to go to the park every day. I want to take them, but sometimes my anxiety doesn’t let me. At the playground, my kids instantly make friends. They run and play, and help each other. They don’t need me. But I need them. I need someone to sit with me, something to focus on, but I refuse to steal my children’s independence by hovering over them. So while they’re excited to head out to play, I dread it. Especially if people talk to me. I have no freaking idea what I’m supposed to say to people, and usually I’m so absorbed in my own thoughts I can’t focus on small talk. I don’t want to be the mom staring at her phone, so what am I supposed to do, stare off into space? Just thinking about an outing like this makes me anxious.

My heart told me the solution was a dog. A dog to walk, to sit with, to train. A dog to convince me that I can leave the house. An adorable dog that I can brag about and focus on. When anxiety is so bad that my favorite thing in the whole world- being out in nature- is intimidating, there’s a dog for that.

When my husband and I decided it was time to start looking for a puppy, I went on Facebook and followed every shelter and rescue within 3 hours of our home. We stood in line for hours waiting to view the dogs at the local pound, only to walk away empty-handed. And then one day I saw a picture of a litter of puppies in the comments of another post, and my heart skipped a beat. The pups were all asleep, piled in together. You couldn’t see their puppy dog eyes, or their floppy ears. But my heart told me that somewhere in that pile of fur was my dog. The comment said they were coonhound/ golden retriever mixes. I messaged the woman, who told me she had just one little boy left. I forwarded the picture to my husband with the caption “This is our dog.” Bless him, my husband just went with it. Despite the fact that this dog was not a lab mix. Despite the fact that he was 2 hours away. Despite the fact that I had made the decision without his input. He was as smitten as I was.

At the beginning of 2016, I started tracking my mood with an app called Stigma. The app gives me a color coded calendar that corresponds with my journal entries. Red is the worst moods, then orange, yellow is that “blah” in-between mood. The best moods are shades of green. Most of my months were orange and yellow. There was some green, but not much. Not enough. And then I brought my puppy home, and my months started looking like this:

A puppy did that.

He’s brought me so much joy in these last few months. He is just pure energy and love and even when he makes me crazy (he’s a very naughty puppy!) he still makes me happy just by being around. He hasn’t had any special training on how to help me with my PTSD, but somehow he knows. When I’m particularly upset, he physically stands over me. How he knows not to lick me and be all up in my face, the way Genna does, I have no idea. But he knows. He just brings his body close to mine and leans into me. I can hang on him and cry and he doesn’t move. He greets me when I get home by leaning on me the same way, likes he’s telling me that he’s here for me now. He waits outside the bathroom door for me, and walks down the stairs by my side. He lets me lay my head on him. As a tiny puppy he would sleep between my feet as I cooked dinner. He just wants to be close to me, which is exactly what I needed in a dog.

Sometimes I get frustrated because he adores my husband and will toss me aside for Daddy time. But when I really need him, I know he’s my dog. I can’t blame him for loving my husband, he’s some kind of dog whisperer. A loose pit bull once ran straight into my husband’s arms for belly rubs. He has a gift.

The past two days, my anxiety has been particularly bad. I’m angry and I’m feeling like my recovery is taking for-freaking-ever. But then there’s this dog. THIS dog. My dog. And he leans into me, and he lets me bury my face in his stinky hound dog fur, and he snaps pepperoni off his nose and accidentally tosses it halfway cross the room. And he makes me laugh. And he makes me think. He’s got a long way to go with his training. I’ve got a long way to go too. But he’s got me. And I’m going to step out of my comfort zone, not for him, but with him.

So yeah, I tried to make my dog a Brand Ambassador today. I think he’s worth it.