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I need a dog and now is the perfect time to finally adopt one. The thought of finally getting my dog is enough to launch me out of bed and into the shower. If I hurry, I can make it to the local shelter as soon as they open. I will find the saddest, loneliest dog who has been at the shelter for years and take that dog home with me. Even if this is a senior dog on its final days, I will adopt it and shower it with love for as long as I can, because every creature deserves the comfort of love.
I am so pumped to do this that I get to the shelter in record speed, while obeying all driving laws, of course. Inside, the shelter smells like animals, but everything is oddly quiet. Why aren’t all the dogs barking?
“Hello. Can I help you?” asks a shelter volunteer. She is wearing a T-shirt that says, “My Favorite Breed is a Rescue.” I need that shirt.
“Yes, hi. I’d like to adopt a dog.”
“That’s wonderful! Unfortunately for you, but lucky for us, we don’t have any dogs at the moment.”
“What do you mean, you don’t have any dogs?”
“We just had a big adoption event over the weekend and cleared the shelter. We do have some kittens that were just brought in this morning, if you’re interested.”
I feel so defeated. The universe is laughing at me again. “I don’t want a cat,” I cry. “I just want a dog. Is that so much to ask? For the heavens to part and give me one thing that will love me?” The stunned volunteer stares at me, unsure of what to say.
“I’m sorry, Miss. There’s another shelter about ten miles away.”
“What’s the address?” Nothing is stopping me from adopting a dog today.
As I pull into a parking space at the next shelter, a variety of howls fill the air. A volunteer is walking a shepherd mix along the side of the building. The dog stops every few seconds to sniff grass. It’s a sign from above that I need to slow down and focus on the simple things again. Just like this dog.
“Hi, I’m here to meet some adoptable dogs,” I announce as I enter the shelter.
“Hi there,” the male volunteer says. He is older, with a salt and pepper mustache and a beer belly. “Any type of dog in particular?”
“I’m open to options, but I live in an apartment, so that will be a factor. Dogs are allowed in the building though, and I own, so I don’t need approval from a landlord.”
“Okay, that’s great. What about your lifestyle? Are you active? That will help me determine which dog here will be a good fit for your pet.”
Does doing sit-ups in bed to reach the remote or scooping spoonfuls of ice cream count as active? Because that’s how I plan on spending the immediate future.
“I like to go for walks.” When I’m not hiding from the world, that is.
“I think you’ll love Coco over here.”
He leads me past a few cages and all the dogs perk up and run to the front of their crates to compete for my attention. I stop to give each of them some love and manifest that they all get homes soon.
Coco, a black hound mix about thirty-five pounds, is sitting politely behind the bars of her cage. Her tail slowly thumps behind her as her big, droopy ears perk forward.
“Hi, Coco,” I say. “Can I pet her?”
The volunteer, whose name I learn is Stuart, opens the gate to her kennel. Coco is reserved and curious as she walks over to sniff me. I hold out my hand for her to get my scent. Once I earn her approval, Coco licks my hand and begins wagging her tail. She rubs her body against my thighs, as I kneel down next to her.
“I’ll take her.” She’s perfect.
“Do you hear that, Coco?” Stuart shouts with joy. “You got a home!”
“What’s her story?” I know black dogs are one of the least adoptable ones at shelters. It’s referred to as Black Dog Syndrome. There are theories where people feel that black dogs are more aggressive than those with light fur. Total bull. Coco and I are going to break stereotypes together. I’ll shatter the stereotypes against divorced women and ex-girlfriends of pop stars, and show I can be strong without a man. I’ll post photos of Coco around town being a lovebug that I know she will be, and raise awareness for other black dogs in shelters.
“Coco has been here about four months. Picked her up off the street, no collar. Looked like she recently had a litter of puppies. The owners probably used her for breeding and let her loose once she was no longer useful to them anymore. No other way to explain why no one came looking for her.”
My heart breaks for Coco and what she must have gone through. “That’s horrible.”
“Unfortunately, Coco is one of the happier stories of shelter dogs. We have had a lot worse in here. But thanks to people like you, who adopt and donate to shelters, we can help save more lives.”
“Happy to do my part. Let’s get this girl out of here.” I don’t need to look at any other dogs. There’s no need to look at more options when I know my perfect fit is right here. Funny, that’s what I thought about love. Once you know, you know. Now, I feel like I don’t know anything.
I sign the paperwork, get a temporary leash, and exit the shelter with hope. Hope for my future, whatever that may look like. Actually, I love the idea of Hope.
