A lot of people say that "home is where the heart is," but in my opinion, home is where my dog is.
As a junior in high school, I was still trying to figure out what college I wanted to go to and what major I wanted to be. I hadn't thought that at the beginning of April, my sister's suggestion to look at dogs would lead anywhere. I imagined my parents, my sister, and I looking at dogs and getting disappointed with the fact we were never going to get one.
By the time I could talk, I had always wanted a dog. I wanted a big fluffy dog that I could hug and kiss. Every birthday, the wish I would make when blowing out the candles always revolved around getting a dog. I would close my eyes, inhale deeply, and make my wish as I blew out the candle. Every year, I was disappointed. I stopped wishing for the dog by the time I entered high school. I thought more rational and wished for good grades and for my crush to somehow like me back.
Then, April 23, 2016 happened.
Two days prior, my sister had somehow convinced my parents to let us look at dogs at the local animal shelter off the highway. The day of, I remember getting out of my mom's car with my heart racing and my palms sweating. So many questions ran in my mind: What dog will we look at? How many dogs will we see? What if we somehow adopt one?
Though my parents had not specified whether or not they wanted a dog, I had a gut feeling my dad did. He had grown up with Collies and hadn't had a dog since he had married my mother. Just speculation, but I think my mom had prevented us from ever getting a dog. If so, I will never have the answer to why. Still, my dad mentioned to my sister and I that if we were going to get a dog, he had a set list that we had to follow:
1. Female
2. Hypoallergenic/doesn't shed too much
3. One paw in the grave
My dad wanted an older dog, and his concept of a dog with "one paw in the grave" was a little dark for my taste. Still, when we got to the shelter my dad explained what we wanted. They brought out about five dogs to us, each with one or two traits matching my dad's list.
One dog I remember was seven years old, but a male and long fur. We said no. Another brought out a female who was three and had just given birth to puppies and had short hair. We were getting closer to what we wanted the more we stood in the small room. The person showing us the dogs was very patient with us because we were afraid of getting a dog and regretting things after.
Then they brought in Andie. A female, with short hair, and was five years old. Perfect.
We took her outside to walk her. She was very adventurous and sniffed anything we walked by. She wagged her tail and had this adorable little skip. I was surprised she hadn't been adopted. She had the perfect energy around her that just made me feel so happy, and I wanted her.
But at the same time, I watched this dog of my dreams, my sister was facing the other direction watching a blond woman walking a white dog. Now, my sister and I both had a love for wolves at the time, watching any werewolf movie or werewolf television show out there. The dog my sister was looking at trotted like a wolf and looked like one as well.
I was still holding the leash attached to Andie when my dad had said she was too hyper and asked the woman to put Andie back. I felt my heart break just a little until my sister mentioned the white dog.
ChaChi was the white dog's name. He was male, a year and a half, and a yearly shedder.
ChaChi on adoption day.Pamela D'Addato
There was nothing about him that fit my dad's list.
They brought ChaChi over to us, and he immediately went to greet us. He was very calm and very curious though his tail had never stopped wagging. He had this smile, and it didn't take us long to realize he had a good half inch underbite. My sister pointed out that one of his eyes was missing a part of its color and wondered if he was blind in that eye. The woman who had brought him out said there was not a lot of pigment in that eye, but he was perfectly fine.
The woman had also mentioned they didn't know exactly what breed he was, but over the years of having him, we've assumed he's a white German shepherd and English pointer mix, only because he points when he sees something and his face has a lot of the German shepherd features. However, for a medium dog, he looked a little skinny. It was only until we took him to the vet that we learned he was forty-two pounds.
And only after knowing Chachi for three minutes, we knew he was our home. We picked up ChaChi the next day and brought him to the forever home he so deserved.
When going through his files, we learned ChaChi was born in South Carolina, had an owner before us, and only a few weeks before we had gotten him he was scheduled to be sent to a shelter that probably would have resulted in him being euthanized. We don't know how long he was in the shelter but we were his last hope. We had his life in our hands without even realizing it, and we had given it to him. And the semi-deformed heart patch on his back reminds me every day what we had given him.
Love, home, family, life.
Getting a dog from a shelter can always be a risk, but with ChaChi it wasn't. Any dog can love no matter where they had been. Having ChaChi for two and a half years now feels like a lifetime, but I'm happy I had never gotten my birthday wishes each year. My wishes were being piled up for safe keeping, waiting for ChaChi to come along. And I did get my wish... 15 years later.
There is nothing more cherishable than seeing my dog wake up every morning giving me the look that says "thank you". He taught me that he knows what our family did for him, and he shows me how much he appreciates our family. Now fifty-eight pounds of happiness and love I will never forget what he did for me. And every single time I come home from college for holidays, breaks, or vacations I know that I love him as much as he loves me.
In the end, all of our wishes do come true.