There are few things I love more than having a dog. Over the course of my life, I've had the joy and honor of sharing my home with two different dogs. My first one, Pumpkin - a stocky Boston Terrier without the classic Boston coloring - I got when I was 11. Growing up, I used to beg my mom for a dog but the answer was always the same, "This isn't our house, we don't have enough room. When we move you can have one."
We brought Pumpkin home the day before Thanksgiving 2006. She was all ears and snorts and adorableness. She became my best friend, fellow troublemaker, and adventurer. We did everything together including moving 900 miles away from home when I was 18. These days she is no longer the rambunctious, go all day dog that she used to be. Her eyes are cloudy and she's pretty hard of hearing but that doesn't stop her from being so excited to see me when I walk through the door at my mom's. Seeing that kind of love is an amazing thing. It's true unconditional, unedited, unparalleled love. There are not many places you see that in the world these days.
My other dog, Luna - a feisty little Chihuahua-mix - I got when I was at the absolute worst low point of my life. I was struggling with severe depression and sometimes suicidal thoughts. I missed my home, my friends, family and the cool mountain air. I was in a rut where I felt like I was doomed to do nothing more than what I was doing, that I would never be more than that. I felt beaten down and that my life had no meaning.
In March 2014, a friend and I drove over to the west-side and picked up Luna. She was so small she could fit in the palm of my hand. Riding back into the city, this tiny little puppy, being cradled so carefully, saw fit to burrow into my jacket and fall asleep on my shoulder. I nearly cried.
I wouldn't go so far as to say Luna saved my life but she did give me a better reason to get out of bed every day. Being forced to care for another being gave me a meaning that I didn't have before. It's easy to brush off caring for yourself, but caring for something that's life depends on you? You can't just brush that off.
Looking back, it's incredible what having this tiny dog did for my mental health. I started to regain bits of myself that had been lost to depression. I began to get out of bed earlier so I could spend more time with her before I had to go to work, which then led to me actually eating again and cleaning and smiling. I would come straight home to take care of her instead of immediately going to the bar after work. My world started to revolve around this puppy. I would leave my apartment telling her, "Little girl, if you want to continue to survive, I've got to go to work." Those words were for both of us. She gave me a solid responsibility and a foothold to climb out of my rut.
It's weird to say that caring for a dog made me strive to get to where I am now and where I want to go, but it's true. Research has found that one of the key elements of happiness is a meaning to our lives and my dog gave me that plus so much more.
