Better with you
An open letter to Oliver, my ESA who changed the way I live.
Story by Samantha Baxley | Photos by Christa Yaranon
Dear Oliver,
Your cold, wet nose presses to the side of my face. Paw across my chest. Eyes open slightly, waiting. It’s 7 a.m. We’re still cozy in bed but warm yellow light is pouring in through the windows, and you know it’s almost time to wake up.
I reach over to scratch your velvety ears and you spring into action, frantically leaping to the end of the bed, grabbing your stuffy, tail thrashing through the air. You pounce on me, dropping your purple dinosaur on my chest, hoping I will throw it.
It’s our morning routine that I’ve come to depend on. The way your eyes light up and your tail wags in anticipation of the day brings a wide smile to my face. It’s a stark departure from the grim, dull look I used to wear.
Since the day you came home with me, the dark waves that once consumed me have been kept at bay. Something no little pill was ever able to do.
Before you, I dragged myself out of bed to class, to work and home again. Spending more time asleep than awake, not caring to join my friends for a drink, head to the gym for a workout or make dinner, because everything took an abundance of energy that I didn’t have.
I am not alone in this battle. More than 264 million people around the world suffer from anxiety and depression, but knowing I wasn’t alone didn’t change the feelings of hopelessness that relentlessly prodded at my life.
Since the day you came home with me, the dark waves that once consumed me have been kept at bay. Something no little pill was ever able to do.
Every night I would collapse into bed and pick up the hard orange plastic bottle that sat on my bedside table taunting me, squeeze and twist the white lid off and swallow what were supposed to be my happy pills. Hoping that tomorrow would be the day they worked, the day I had energy, the day I felt capable of interacting with the people around me.
That day didn’t come until I met you. It was a bright and clear spring morning, blue skies in my mind and outside. I had isolated myself all winter and, for the first time in months, I desperately wanted a reason to get out of the house. I found myself at the humane society, walking down an aisle of caged dogs. I wasn’t expecting to find my best friend that day, but halfway down the row of stark kennels, my eyes met yours.
Your shining, spirited eyes held as much hope for me as mine did for you.
You were 50 pounds, with droopy dull orange fur covering skin that looked three sizes too big, but you had a wide grin and lively golden brown eyes that I couldn’t pass up.
Before I knew it, I was being dragged through the parking lot, your tongue hanging out of your mouth, slobber flying, while you chomped on a yellow tennis ball that you refused to leave behind.
Since you rescued me, I have found the person I had forgotten and those orange bottles I detested now sit dusty and untouched. I, like most people, still despise the sound of my morning alarm, but you push the darkness away with your vivacity and enthusiasm for life.
Every day is filled with little moments of joy. When I get home from school you’re at the door, snorting, tail wagging eagerly, eyes wide with excitement, begging me to go outside. Your constant desire to explore and play has led to earlier mornings, afternoons spent swimming in the cold clear water of a nearby river, and nights at the park throwing your slimy yellow tennis ball. My brightest days are the ones spent with you, the sun shining down on us, cool air making my skin prickle.
At the end of the day after we make our way home, your sleepy tender eyes looking back at me are a reminder of how lucky I am to have you in my life. You make it possible for me to not only survive but thrive.
As I sit here writing this letter to you, you’re snoring soundly beside me, breathing deeply, one paw across my chest, eyes closed tightly. I only hope that you know how much you mean to me, how much love, light and happiness you’ve brought to my life.
I hope I’ve done the same for you,
