Nobody puts baillee in the corner

I talk a lot about my pup. I also share a lot of photos of Pudge on social media and in every social situation. However, I don’t talk about the little dude saving me every single day as much as I should, and I can’t think of a better time than TwentyMineTeen. 

For those who somehow don’t know, Pudge’s Gotcha Day is December 13, 2016. I was going through one of the worst bouts of depression I’ve ever had. I was sleeping all day. I was drifting along at work. I was absolutely miserable. 

So my roommate (and still dear friend) went with me to the animal shelter. Long story short, I wound up taking a dog home against what my gut told me, and I had to take him back to the shelter, all while bawling my eyes out and repeatedly calling myself a monster. (He was adopted a couple of days later, but I still feel guilty to this day). 

After the first adoption fiasco, I was even more disheartened and down, and I felt even worse about myself. Finally, I let myself go to a different shelter, specially for small furry friends a few days later. We walked by all of the kennels, and nothing felt right. Then, when we were about to leave, my friend noticed a small, shaking scruff curled up in a tiny ball. He was all alone in a little dog bed in a giant kennel. I immediately felt a connection. 

The volunteer told us he had gotten to the shelter two hours prior (yes, I know how Hallmark this sounds), so they didn’t know much about him; all they really had is that he had survived Parvo, was born June 2, and was an owner surrender from Dallas. They said they weren’t sure how social he was going to be because he had been shaking since the car ride. We asked to take him to the play yard, and this is when the story takes a turn from Hallmark to a Chicken Soup for the Soul story. 

Pudge peaked out from behind the volunteer’s legs and slowly walked over to me. He looked up into my eyes and proceeded to curl up in my lap and sighed. At that point, it was game over. We had him meet Frankie, my friend’s dog, and they were instantly best friends. He followed her around, and anything she did, he immediately did after. That day, I gained another piece of my heart. 

I knew Pudge was meant to be mine on the car ride home when I looked in the back seat, and he was just staring back at me, and I could feel how grateful and happy my sweet boy felt; I continue to feel it every single day. 

As grateful as Pudge is for me, I’m even more grateful for him. The first couple of months we had were rough because he hadn’t been trained at all. The casualties included three pairs of Doc Martens, a pair of Birkenstocks, a Moleskine journal, and a huge chunk of my sanity, but at the end of every teething nightmare or housebreaking training session, he would look up at me and curl up in my lap. That look was all it took for me to realize it was all worth it. And it still is. 

This little dude saves me every single day. He cries when I leave but still rushes up to me the moment I get home. He has more personality and spunk in 20 pounds than most 100 pound dogs will ever have in their lifetime. He’s weird and communicates like a toddler. He’s the sweetest scruff in the entire world. 

He lies in bed with me when I can’t get up. He licks my face when I cry. He, I swear to God, puts his paw on my hand when I need it. All he wants in return is love and affection and the occasional tortilla chip. Some days, he is one of the only things that saves me because I know as soon as I get home, he’ll start screaming and then jump into my arms and run around the living for room in circles out of sheer excitement. 

I’ve never been in love before, but I hope it’s akin to how I feel about my dog. If so, I’ll be in pretty good shape.