The rescue who rescued me.

Heroin has a funny way of removing everything that matters in someone’s life. As for me, it started with my dog, Lumin, my french bulldog that I was awarded in the divorce from my alcoholic husband. She was a great dog, excepting for the fact that she had terrible allergies, and soon came the day I was no longer able afford to keep paying the $500 a month for her medication as well as keep up with my growing drug habit. Eventually, it felt like I had no choice but to find her a new home. Thankfully I was able to find her a house with a stay-at-home mother, five children, and a six-figure disposable income who were willing to take on the expenses that came with her. I hope you understand that I was trying to do the right thing. The truth was that at the time, it was the right thing to do because things only got worse for me from there. Shortly after I re-homed Lumin, I lost my job, was evicted from my apartment, arrested for possession, my car impounded, and for about two years, I was homeless and living in vehicles, on someone's couch or in tents along the side of interstate 5 in Seattle. My friends and family no longer spoke to me because they were sick and tired of trying to help someone who didn't want any help. It hurt them to watch me destroy myself. So I left them alone. Lumin would have been miserable, and as much as it hurt me to have to let her go, she did not belong on this suicidal drug binge with me. At that point, I was hoping for a permanent overdose, and I had purposely pushed away any purpose or meaning from my life so that I could die without directly hurting anyone or anything around me. I know it sounds bleak, but that's where I was at the time.

But just like heroin has a funny way of taking things away, hope has a funny way of sneaking back into the life of those who are seemingly hopeless. At a certain point in my drug-fueled nightmare, I started trying to talk to God, and I found myself praying for a dog, a reason outside of myself to allow me a will to live again. I had survived countless overdoses, and somehow I just knew that I had the kind of luck where even if I tried to shoot myself in the head, I would survive and end up brain-damaged and ugly by the grace of God. So for seemingly no reason, one day I decided to try something new, I would find myself walking down the street on my way to the bus stop, imagining my perfect dog. I had seen a couple videos online about manifestation and I really didn’t have anything to lose so I started to put together what my ideal pet would look like, taking everything I wanted and learned from my relationship with Lumin and leaving the rest behind. I didn't care if it was a male or female; however, being a small woman, my dog would be no bigger than 15 pounds, so if I had to, I could carry it in my arms or my backpack, in case I had to run from something or someone which was not altogether unusual in that lifestyle. I wanted a dark-colored dog, preferably black or dark grey, since my wardrobe was predominately dark in color, and I am all too familiar with the struggles of white fur on black clothing. I wanted a puppy; I didn't want my puppy to belong to anyone. I didn't want to end up accidentally stealing anyone's pet. I didn't want my dog to have any weird allergy issues like Lumin did so my dog would be healthy. I wanted my dog to be intelligent. There were times with Lumin that I knew she wasn't working with a full deck of cards just off her complete lack of self-preservation alone. Seemingly out of nowhere, Lumin would escape out of my front door around 4 pm and make a beeline directly into rush hour traffic. The first time she did that, I was so stressed out and horrified how she didn't even try to stop herself. She just ran right in front of on-coming vehicles. I came back into my apartment and just started sobbing hysterically from the very real possibility that she and I could have been killed that day. She was so damn fast it took three strangers to corral and capture her. My ideal dog would be loyal, always coming when I called it, and intelligent. Also, my dog would be free since I had no money to pay for one. I would often imagine this perfect animal just walking out of the wooded areas along the roads in Seattle. That I would look up and there would be this creature looking back at me, also without a home or a friend, all alone in the world just like me and suddenly just like that we would have each other—real-life soul mates.

These were the ingredients to my prayers, and for my perfect dog, I started praying every time I found myself wearing holes in my shoes for long stretches of road. I would start asking God for this one responsibility. Please let me have this one, and I would find a way to turn my life around, give me something to hold on to, and I promise I'll hold on for dear life. I had lost everything except my own life. I felt so alone and caught up in my struggle, I couldn't find a way out just for myself. Then on September 4th, 2019, I was on a drug run for the people whose couch I had been sleeping on and was waiting for my Lyft when I heard a semi-truck horn blow. The sound caused me to lift my head, causing me to go into immediate shock by what I saw next. There, in the middle of exit 50 by I-5, was a small black dog with a leash around its neck, running around on the on-ramp. I have never thrown down earthly possessions to the ground so fast in my life. I knew in my heart that this was what I had been praying for, what I had been manifesting, and that was my dog, and to be honest, even if it wasn't, a dog was running around on the on-ramp, and I needed to do something about it. I took chase after the puppy and caught up enough to step on the leash, he was a little boy, and he was terrified. When I tried to pull him close to me, he lunged at me, threatening to bite me with his baby teeth. He made it abundantly clear he didn't trust me, so I threw my jacket over his head and grabbed him just in time to get back to my pick-up location for my ride. Before I got into the car, I asked the driver to wait for just a few minutes to see if anyone was looking for him, but no one ever came, so we left.

I held him in my arms all the way back to my friend's apartment when I gave her the drugs and then immediately excused myself to her bathroom, where I bathed him and myself. He made one more attempt at biting me, and then I grabbed him by the scruff, and I sat on him until he stopped moving and rolled over on his back, exposing his stomach, asserting dominance in a style I knew he would understand. I was the Alpha in this relationship, and I needed him to know that. His coat was a dark blue-black with orange markings on his feet, cheeks, dotting his eyebrows and chin. He looked like a chihuahua and miniature pincher mixed breed. He was only about eight pounds. He grew to be thirteen and a half pounds, and his ears flopped over, always refusing to stand up. After we had established who was in charge, we had developed a bond. I got kicked out of that girl's apartment that night and immediately began looking for resources to find my place with Kujo at my side. I hustled, and I got a job, and I made money so I could afford to train him as a service animal, and I took him to the vet, and I even managed to pay for a cheap motel so we could live indoors. I swore to God that if it gave me this perfect little creation, answered my prayers, I would hold on and not let go, so now something in me was determined to keep that promise.

The better I was to Kujo (he picked his name, by the way, I started just calling him random names until he finally responded to one), the kinder I was to myself and good things, in turn, started happening to me. I know that the pandemic was terrible, and many people died, but Kujo and I got to stay indoors rent-free for a while, and not only that, but we started receiving unemployment which more than paid for food the seldom vet bill, he rarely gets sick. God has given me so many precious gifts, but my dog has always been my absolute favorite. Even though things were difficult, his disposition was always on the sunny side, often smiling his happy-go-lucky toothy grin while looking at me and wagging his tail wildly. And when life hit snags and I found myself reduced to tears Kujo was there to lick the tears off my face which always made me smile no matter how devastated I felt. I discovered that my dog is incredibly intelligent, very protective, and even on occasion, very brave. There was one time when we stayed in another apartment, and the owner of the place had allowed a dealer in while I was asleep. Still, all I heard him say was, "Wow, she's beautiful… is that… a puppy?" right before Kujo flew into a protective panic and started barking and growling at the dealer, acting ten times his actual size and threatening to bite the guy. I don't know if we were in any real danger, but if the drug dealer had any ideas that were less than pure, they were immediately gone from his mind. The beauty of the pandemic was that we didn't have to live on other people's couches anymore. We could finally just be safe together.

Nearly a year and a half after I found him, God graced me with one of the most important gifts an addict can get, the will and desire to quit doing drugs, alcohol, and every other addiction I had developed over my life. One day I saw precisely what I looked like through someone that I cared deeply about and I was so horrified by what I saw I simply couldn't bring myself to do another shot. I detoxed that week, and 30 days later, Kujo and I went to rehab for two months together. Our path wasn't always so glorious, and it was rarely straightforward, but there are days that I stare into Kujo's big brown eyes, and I often find myself laughing at the irony and wondering out loud to him who really saved who that day.