It was a typical day for my boyfriend and I: we were joyriding through the area making routine stops at Harris Teeter and our favorite local thrift stores. It wasn't until late afternoon (the deep orange summer sun was beginning to wane) that we decided to make one more stop at Pet Helpers -- a local nonprofit, no-kill animal rescue. I had volunteered there as a dog caregiver in the past and thoroughly enjoyed my time spent with the homeless cats and dogs housed there. Our 2-year-old cat, Mercury, had been adopted from Charleston Animal Society: a much larger no-kill shelter in the area. We did not make it out to Pet Helpers as often as the other shelters in the area, so we figured it would be a nice chance to kill time and socialize some needy animals (even before attending college together, this is something we did fairly often in our free time).

Perhaps a little too eagerly, we had been surfing PetFinder.com the week prior to this visit and pinpointed a few homeless dogs that - based solely on their appearances and vague descriptions -- we would love to take home. I should have known we were bound to make a hasty and passionate choice with the help of this website; Mercury was one of those pinpointed pets almost two years before on the same site and we ended up bringing her home the same day we went to go meet her. This time, we stumbled upon an 8-month-old purebred American Eskimo puppy housed at Pet Helpers. "We have to go meet him!" my boyfriend exclaimed. On that fateful summer afternoon, that is exactly what we did. I had hoped, however, that there might be some sort of medical issue or behavioral deterrent standing in the way of my boyfriend and I bringing home yet another homeless fur baby. As much as I loved the idea of sharing our lives with a dog for the first time since we were both in high school living with our families, I felt that one cat was enough for us. Plus, how would Mercury react to a new dog? She had met dogs on several occasions, but seemed to only tolerate their presence. It will be nice to meet this dog, I thought. Give him some much-needed love. But we won't be bringing him home. I had done a solid job saying "no" to my boyfriend in the past. None of the dogs we met at other shelters had felt right for us. That's how this one will be, too, I thought.

Well, we met the dog - already named Asa - and he was perfect. Despite the dried tendrils of poop stuck around his behind, he was perfect. He was a ball of matted and very dirty fur, but he was perfect. The moment we met him, he smiled. He played. He wagged his tail when we talked, eyes thoughtful and prick-ears alert. He was on his best behavior. Earlier in the day, a woman had tried to "get to know" Asa in Pet Helpers' meet-and-greet room and he had growled at her. We couldn't get him to growl at us, no matter how hard we tried, so we figured the supposed growl had just been a fluke. It was a done deal before I had even said "yes." We filled out tons of paperwork - more than we ever needed to do for Mercury's adoption - and were instantly approved as Asa's adopters (probably in part due to the impressive knowledge of the adoption process and dog care we offered to the associates of Pet Helpers). We took the dirty ball of fluff home and there was no going back. We were excited and exhausted and there was no going back. As I normally do after making big, life-altering choices, I doubted myself. Overall, though, I felt I had done the right thing by ignoring logic and listening to my heart.

Fast forward two months and Asa has dramatically changed our lives in both positive and negative ways. We knew he would impact every aspect of our lives, but what we did not expect was the degree to which the unknown would play a part in rescuing a homeless dog. Psychologically complex like humans, dogs are affected by everything humans do to them and carry emotional baggage. I didn't give this enough thought before signing off on Asa's papers. Mercury was never any trouble at all for us; imagine the sweetest, most low-maintenance cat possible. That is and always was Mercury (despite a few unexpected vet visits and some food related pickiness at first). Like that of so many rescue dogs, Asa's troubled past eventually reared its ugly head in our lives as he got more comfortable with his new home and lifestyle. We discovered that he is fearful of strangers and absolutely terrified of older, bigger, taller men. Even more recently- much to our disdain - we discovered that he is an anxious "fear biter." This is a saddening and terrifying discovery that normally forces people to "get rid of" their animal, often in the worst of ways. He started out as a very picky eater. His previous owners had failed to properly housebreak him. He has minor separation anxiety. He is great in so many ways, but he is certainly not one of the flawless poster pups we see in Purina commercials. In fact, we found in time that he is quite the "problem child" who is extremely capable of causing immense upset in our lives and those of our friends and family members (despite the positive assessment results we were given from Pet Helpers. How could they have possibly known the deep-seated insecurities of a dog they had had for only a week?)

I found it sad and perplexing that Asa had clearly had such a rough 8 months of life, so I did some research on his background (for almost all of a puppy's problems lie in the way he is/was raised). The first six months of a dog's life are his most formative - just as are a child's - and Asa's had been blown with less-than-the-best care and training, probably as well as abuse. Not many rescue dog owners are allowed access to this kind of research, but we were lucky enough to receive a copy of our dog's AKC "purebred" lineage containing the breeder's full name and his litter information. We never expected to own a purebred dog, so everything on the single piece of paper we were given intrigued us (and appeared to us as a fancy foreign language). I wanted desperately to know why such a beautiful and young dog ended up in a shelter, so I contacted the breeder. As it turns out, the breeder had no idea that one of her puppies had ended up in a shelter (before being taken by Pet Helpers, Asa was in at least one overrun kill shelter) and was shocked and outraged upon receiving this news. I sent emails and talked on the phone with the breeder and increasingly realized that she was as helpful as they come (she was a "responsible" breeder who only procured litters every couple of years and cared deeply about the outcome of her dogs). She told us she was willing to help with any problems that might arise and that she would take the dog back if we ever decided he was too much for us. Even though I felt strongly that dogs are not disposable pieces of property (and instead complex, feeling creatures who require patience and time), I was happy to know that someone reliable was there for us and Asa if troubled times arrived.

I learned a lot from our conversations. I learned that Asa had originally come all the way from Texas (we live in Charleston, South Carolina) and that the family to which Asa was sold lived on an expansive farm about an hour from our residence. I learned that the breeder received seemingly normal and happy updates from Asa's original family up until February -- after that, the family refused to communicate with her at all. She was worried. I learned that the family consisted of a wealthy middle-aged couple and their seven-year-old daughter. I learned that Asa originally cost $1,200 (we paid $150). I learned about all of Asa's siblings and where they ended up: California, Arizona, Florida, and Texas. Eventually, after months of no communication, the breeder received a response from Asa's old family explaining that Asa would not behave for them, would not be housebroken, almost bit someone and hated the large military man of the house. The breeder explained that the man had been rude on the phone with her and that he sounded angry when talking about the dog he had thrown away. She informed me that he was probably abusive to both his family and the dog (which seemed to flawlessly explain Asa's hatred for larger, taller men). Most importantly, however, I learned that the breeder was willing to put a lot of faith in us as Asa's new parents even though we were young.

For most people, adopting a dog is pretty effortless and the dog turns out fine in a relatively short amount of time. In situations like Asa's, the dog requires a ton of taxing training, bonding activities and - more than anything else - patience. So far, Asa has showed fear aggression toward both my dad and brother and, as one can imagine, it is very stressful to realize that, in the process of shaping our dog into a better canine citizen, people will get upset and maybe even physically hurt. For many dog owners, this is grounds for "getting rid of" the dog. I am announcing to the world that we are not going to give up on Asa. We believe that with the help of a trained professional (when we can afford it) and persistence he will show potential. There is hope for him not only because he is young but also because he has shown a strong interest in pleasing us (he has learned "sit," "lie down," "roll over," "paw," "go to bed," and many other commands very quickly and easily). People are allowed to have complex emotional problems, so why aren't dogs?

The process of adopting and learning to love Asa has been far from easy and has involved a great deal of blood, sweat and tears in the two months we have had him. I want everyone who is thinking about adopting a dog to consider the worst case scenarios and risks involved with this decision, because we certainly did not. We are unfortunately not allowed to get to know dogs in depth before we bring them home and I am 100 percent sure that if we were, many of us would change our minds about the dog we chose. But what help would that be in the larger scale of things? Because they aren't perfect, so many more dogs would be left behind to die or rot in shelters. Even more strongly than considering risks, I feel that everyone who is thinking about adopting a dog should realize that even if their new dog ends up having issues, he is likely happier and more fulfilled with you than he has ever been. Shelters are intensely stressful for a dog and can further develop behavioral issues. If you are like me and are absolutely committed to the idea of intensive training when you have even just a little bit of free time (and are financially capable), please adopt a dog. Listen to your heart. Let those who doubt you know that fate brought you together for a reason and that you can make a difference. Without your help, the dog might end up in the wrong hands or euthanized.

As a response to the many who have doubted and even chastised my boyfriend and I for choosing to adopt Asa: please respect our devotion to the dog: a living, breathing, feeling creature. Please understand that we have listened to and accept your criticism, but also understand that we are adults and can make our own independent choices. Know that we are young but determined to succeed; we do not have a track record of making poor choices. Realize that we can accept and overcome stressful times; stress is a part of life and always will be. Please just try to love Asa through his failures as you have loved us through ours. Because of the extreme prevalence of nurture (or lack thereof), so many of Asa's undesirable traits exist because of his past external influences. Would you change your tune if unruly children with impolite tendencies were handed off to others or killed instead of given a second chance? Even if you aren't a "dog person," understand that many studies have suggested that dogs possess emotions and intelligence equivalent to a human toddler. We love dogs for a reason. Finally, know that all change takes time and we hope that by this time next year people will be happy and impressed with the good dog Asa has become.