what i have learned...

when my beautiful brittany spaniel, known to humans as "moon", died last november, i tried not to knee-jerk. i tried not to do the thing most people do when they lose a loved one - go out and get a new one to love. and i didn't... i did not replace one furry companion for another. i enjoyed my dog freedom. i enjoyed not having to race home after work knowing she'd been alone for far too many hours today. i loved not having to consider her in my evening or weekend plans. i didn't mind not having to care for another creature. and, i have successfully spent my time since last november caring for little other than just myself. probably a wise decision, since it turns out i needed every emotional reserve i could muster just to care for myself.

but in august, i began to wonder. maybe i'm ready. maybe i'm ready to welcome a furry companion back into my life. i began to not mind the idea of having someone to take with me on my morning runs. i began to long for a companion on my evening walks. and the idea of sharing with a warm creature my bed that sometimes feels so big for one person was a welcome idea... but i don't have the time, or let's just be honest, patience, for puppies. yes, they're cute. yes, they're soft. yes, they are very popular with hallmark, cottonelle commercials, and e-cards everywhere. but they eat. and they eat absolutely EVERYTHING. furniture. carpet. undergarments. shoes. clothing. toiletries. tools. slippers. papers. plants. socks. wood floors. doors. anything they can get their cute little baby puppy teeth on. also, potty training a puppy can really make one question the existence of god.

but i kept looking...

around august 20th, on the american brittany rescue website i found a description of a two-year old brittany spaniel to the tune of "just wants to be loved"; "already house broken, potty trained, and does not bark"; "great with children, other dogs, strangers"; and the pictures of this mysterious brittany, known by humans as "eli", were stop-your-heart beautiful.

so. i arranged a meeting with "eli".

one beautiful august saturday in the late summer cool of morning, i drove the long 105 miles to brainerd minnesota and met "eli" at his foster home. what i had planned in my mind to be "just a meeting" turned out, of course, to be a full-fledged adoption. i came home that saturday afternoon responsible to and for another living being, now known to humans as "levi".

the thing about rescue dogs is this - you never know their history. it's really quite mysterious. did his previous owner hunt with him? did they play with him? were they kind? were they mean? as the weeks have gone by, i've figured out enough to know this - i'm pretty sure his previous owner was, how do you put this, "heavy handed" with him. he cowers or shrinks back if he thinks you are upset with him or if you happen to move too quickly in his direction, for example tonight, when i dropped a pan on the floor and he wincingly ran, butt-tucked-under-legs, into a corner. we shared a few tender moments together in that corner, me coaxing him out of the corner with assurances that i was not throwing the pan at him, but that it was simply an accident, etc etc...

so in these first weeks that i have had him, i've learned a lot about him, and i think he is learning about me too. i think he is just beginning to understand that i'm not the kind of human who will ever hurt him. that i just want to love him and be loved in a manner in which only a dog can love - that unconditional "you don't really have to do anything and i love you anyway" kind of love.

as i sit here and write this, he is sound asleep pressing into the left side of my body, quietly breathing. his pink nose is against my forearm and i hope that he no longer has nightmares of whatever his old may have been like, but now only has peaceful dreams of the new life he has with me.