What my dog has taught me
Growing up with her
We rescued my dog when I was 7 years old, in June of 2012. Not to be the most cliche person in the world (I am physically cringing at myself as I write this) but saying that we rescued her seems wrong, because she’s saved me time and time again.
I had been begging my parents to get a dog for months, maybe close to a year, but they weren’t a big fan of the idea. They didn’t think I would be able to take care of a dog (which was fair enough, as I neglected chores that were extremely simple out of stubbornness). My dad showed up on a random Friday in the second grade to pick me up early from school. This had probably never happened before, so I was confused, and even more so when he told me our destination was a surprise. We drove for around an hour if I remember correctly, and arrived at a parking lot. We met a woman who had brought five rescue puppies with her. Two were small, and both peed on my dad immediately. One was a blue heeler with an insane amount of energy, who also peed on my dad a bit later. He jumped all over us and kissed us, and was so excited just to be introduced to some new people. I remember hoping that someone would bring him home, because just the prospect of having a home had caused him such immense happiness. There was also a black lab, who was a sweetie and also full of energy. He nipped me, but he was a puppy so it was to be expected. He was the last to pee on my dad.
The fifth dog was calmer. She lied down for most of the time we were visiting, and flinched a bit when my dad and I went to pet her. The woman who had taken in the rescues told us that she had been in a really rough home just a while ago, before she rescued her, so she may still be a little timid. My dad later told me that she asked the woman not to bring her as he was hesitant about the amount of energy she might have due to the border collie in her (they are known for their energy and constant need for attention), but the woman insisted that she would be a good fit for us. Her name was Ginger when we visited her. Her tongue was out and she panted in the hot California summer sun, and eventually she let us pet her, softly. I remember sitting on the pavement in denim shorts and just looking at her. I think my dad and I both knew immediately that she would be ours soon.
My parents and I went out to dinner soon after, and talked about a name for her. We decided on Tenaya, as it is a lake in one of our favorite places in the world, Yosemite National Park. We had also just visited Tenaya Lake, and it had been beautiful. I had a list of dog names that I had been working on for months, even when my parents had said no to getting a dog, in hopes that they would cave eventually. They did.
She came home with us a few days later. She tore up the first toy we got her, a little plush chicken, and dug many holes in the backyard that my dad had to fill back in. She ate glitter glue and chewed on shoes and ripped big chunks of grass out of the lawn and once began working on an entire Thanksgiving turkey wrapped in bacon. She ate many a craft and a bit of “human” food, when I got away with feeding her under the table, which wasn’t often, as my parents despised it. They got a bit less strict about it when I got older, because she was getting older too.
When we took her to the beach for the first time, she dug a hole for her stomach and napped. I remember seeing other dogs run back and forth, in and out of the water, and she basked in the sun peacefully. I remember thinking that she wanted to soak it all in, her first time seeing the ocean or touching the sand. I understood the feeling, and I laid with her until the sun set and we drove home. I pet her through the crate she sat in on the way back, as she was shaking and nervous during the car ride. She still gets nervous in the car, and I still resent whoever made my beautiful dog terrified to even move, to leave home, to go on a drive.
We went on endless hikes with her, took her everywhere we went. She started to get more comfortable around people, but was still really timid around other dogs. Once, we took her to the dog park to see if she’d like it. She got surrounded by a group of bigger dogs who attacked her and led to a bloody mouth and tongue. We took her to the animal hospital, as I insisted on it, and we were just a block away. They told us she would be fine, but I wouldn’t let her leave my side for weeks. For some reason, I felt like we had failed her when that happened. I knew she had been through a lot, and I wanted to protect her from any evil in the world. From now on, she deserved good, and nothing else. She quickly became my best friend, and we were attached at the hip for the 10 years I got to spend with her at home. No, she did not die! I just moved away and miss her very much. She is getting old, but I try not to think about that much. I’m not very confident in my ability to be without her.
She remains my favorite creature to ever exist. She knows all of my secrets, though I should catch her up this summer since she’s behind now that I’ve been off at school. She knows when I’m going to cry before I do, and she stops me from yelling because I know it scares her. She’s taught me that it is okay to have bad days, and that you’ll be loved just as much on good days and bad ones. She has days where she visits my room less, where she spends most of her time in the backyard, basking in the sun. I’ve never resented her for taking time to be alone, though, and I love her just as much on the days when she spends her time alone as the ones she spends attached to my side. I figure that if I can love her the same in all of her various moods and states, she can love me in all of mine too, as any good friend will. It hurts to be away from her for so long, but we will always return to one another, I promised her that. It is one of the only promises I can guarantee I wouldn’t break for anything.
T has pretty intense anxiety, too. It was worse overall when we first met her, as she had recently been in an extremely abusive household. She got more comfortable around us pretty quickly but is still frightened by things such as loud noises, cars, and raised voices. Sometimes, she is more anxious than other times, without rhyme or reason, because anxiety (I’m guessing) is probably pretty similar in dogs and humans. But again, my love for her never falters. I love her just the same in every state, because it is the least I can do. She has loved me at my absolute worst, maybe even more fiercely than other times, and her silent gestures of kindness have allowed me to keep moving.
Thank you mom and dad for caving- you introduced me to my guardian angel.
The sweetest friendship.