Two Old Dogs Who Rescued Each Other

I am not a sad person by nature. I have to admit to wrestling with melancholy from time to time, but generally, I am pretty happy. I was, however, a lonely person. I have great friends, but they have their lives and their obligations. My family is relatively scattered, living their own lives.

My life, for the most part, consists of working and writing. I write a variety of things, including my thesis, which, when completed, will culminate in a Master’s degree in English Composition. I have also enjoyed a fairly rewarding second career in the creative community, with a modicum of success along the way.

But when there is no one to share it with, it doesn’t quite ‘pop’ like you’d hoped it would. Successes are satisfying, but when you’re the only one wearing a silly pointed party hat and blowing out candles, they feel less significant. Over time, loneliness began to have a profound effect on my creativity. Melancholy was becoming more prevalent, causing negative manifestations, not the least of which was a distraction from writing. I was losing focus on the things that truly mattered to me.

Sometimes, Hope Is A Dark Horse

During one such period of distraction, I found myself on an animal rescue site I had sponsored from time to time. They had a lot of adorable puppies, young dogs, beautiful dogs. As I navigated the site, I saw they were also promoting adoption companies who shared a common goal: finding forever homes for Pit Bulls.

One of the companies was called Dark Horse Dogs. Considering myself a bit of a dark horse, I immediately felt like there was something there for me. To be honest, I have wanted a Pit Bull for so long, but with my schedule it just didn’t seem realistic. It hadn’t felt like the best thing for me or the dog, but I told myself I was just going to “have a look.”

When I clicked on Gary’s profile, I knew immediately that my life was about to change. There was no going back. This old dog was about to make room in his life for another old dog; a ten-year-old dog, to be exact. Gary’s adoption site profile read like my dating one: doesn’t like drama, doesn’t move too fast, likes curling up for naps, set in his ways. (Okay, that last one was more me than him.) One look into his soulful eyes, and I knew we’d be housemates before long.

Before Gary, I had not had a pet in six years. Dawson – my last pet – was a cat I shared my apartment with for about fifteen years. When she passed, I decided I was done with pets, but one look at Gary and all of that melted away.

Gotcha Day

There were a few scheduling challenges, and it took a few weeks before Gary’s foster mom could move him in. When she finally called to say she was on her way, I was too excited to sit and wait. I stood in the driveway that cold March day, watching the street for unfamiliar cars.

Leading up to this day, I had already picked up a nice quilted bed and some cool plushies. I added a second bed in the bathroom and purchased shiny aluminum bowls for water and food. A couple of squeaky toys later, I was set to welcome Gary home.

Gary’s foster mother had some theories about his previous life, none of which were pleasant (and that’s putting it mildly), and years of neglect had taken their toll. Countless ear infections had caused irreparable damage to his hearing. He had an eye condition that needed daily medication, a skin tag on his chest, and two small mysterious bald spots on his tail. 

All in all, he was perfect. 

Just Two Old Dogs

We trained each other pretty quickly. He had me waking up way too early so he could go out for his morning call of nature. He was in charge of the place, and that worked perfectly for us both. We lived a quiet life of two old dogs, and we lived well.

For a long time, Gary refused to be more than three feet away from me when I was home. People have explained that the proximity is a show of gratitude, but looking back, I wonder if it was Gary’s gratitude or mine. Other people say he was still getting used to the idea of me being his forever person, but for me, it was a done deal. Some evenings he would sit with his back to me, and I have learned that this is a sign that he trusted me and wanted to protect me.

Gary and I rescued each other that Sunday afternoon and built a bond that includes dehydrated animal parts for snacks and slow walks together when the sun is out; exercise I needed more than he did. For me, the most important thing was having someone to share my successes with. When something great happened, he knew it. He had my back, and I had his. If I was happy, Gary was too.

I wasn’t distracted anymore. Gary’s routines influenced mine, making me more productive. Our lives became ordered, with patterns that were easy to navigate; as much a pattern as two old dogs could handle.

The best result of our meeting was that I wasn’t lonely anymore. Sure, it would be nice to have someone walk Gary with me, but just having him there to share my good news was wonderful. I wouldn’t go as far as to try to put a funny pointed party hat on him, but he watched with bemusement as I danced in the kitchen from time to time.

When Gary came onto the scene, he was already a senior dog, but our connection was undeniable. 

We Rescued Each Other

Gary left us about eight months after blessing this house with his presence, and he has now been gone for longer than we lived together. I don’t mourn him so much as I am grateful for the time we had. The lessons have stuck with me, and the love never leaves the house. 

I know I’ll find another old dog when the time is right, and we’ll rescue each other, just like me and Gary.