A Second Chance

For as long as I could remember, I was always drawn to animals, particularly dogs, with an intense desire to help any stray that crossed my path. At eight years old, I experienced my first rescue situation when my neighbor and I found three Rottweiler puppies under a wooden board in a park in our small suburb in Sydney. We ran home to grab blankets and pulled the puppies out, and brought them to my backyard. They were covered in fleas and looked malnourished. We fed them and gave them some water as I tried to devise a plan to convince my parents to let me keep them. When my mom came outside and realized what was going on, she explained that these pups would one day be full size, and with all of the traveling we had planned, it would not be reasonable. We called the RSCPA, an Australian animal rescue, who came and got the pups. Three weeks later, we visited the shelter, and the pups looked healthy and were going to their new homes. It was a special moment that has stayed with me through adulthood and increased my desire to help and to adopt a dog in the future.

Fast forward to adulthood after moving out of home and then getting a job where travel was required monthly, I still never felt that the time was quite right to adopt a dog in need. Although I would frequent dog rescue sites constantly, there was lingering guilt that I wouldn't provide a stable home for a dog with constant the traveling. Then one fortuitous day, a friend of mine mentioned that she was fostering a dog- my light bulb moment.

Fostering would provide me with a chance to do my part and help dogs in need of a home without any guilt attached to it, so I signed up. My fostering journey started with a tiny two-year-old Chihuahua from Mexico, rescued and brought to Toronto only to be dropped at a shelter months later. Cinnamon was a sweet and shy little soul that came to me one sunny afternoon in the summer. She was nervous at first but would curl up beside me for warmth and not leave my side. Just a week later, as confidence began to set in, Cinnamon's personality began to shine. She went from being timid and cautious to energetic and adventurous. By week three, I contemplated adoption and tried to make it work when someone put in their request to adopt her. Cinnamon left me a week later, and while parting ways was tough, I got to meet the family adopting her and was happy that she would receive a life full of attention, stability, and love. That was just the beginning.

Over the next few years, I fostered 17 dogs from all walks of life, breeds, ages, and sizes. From a senior poodle from Los Angeles, a three-legged dog from Egypt, a hound puppy from North Carolina, a senior St Bernard with Epilepsy that ended up living an additional four years until the age of 13, and everything in between.

While every sweet doggy soul left an impression, there was one in particular that impacted me so much that I still feel that impact to this day.

About a year into my fostering journey, my coordinator called me late one evening to ask if I could pick up a dog they just brought from Manitoba. She sent me a photo of a big fluffy, ginger-colored head. His name was Charlie. Without asking questions, I hopped in my car and drove over to a parking lot where the rescue van had just arrived. It was love at first sight- for me at least. Charlie was a German Shepherd, Corgi mix who had a big head and a squat body with stumpy little legs. He was incredibly reserved and hesitant around humans, but I gently guided him into the back seat of my car. He reluctantly got in and sat down.

This is a dog that had clearly experienced some trauma in his life and likely at the hands of humans. I was told Charlie was a five-year-old who had come from no home with about ten other dogs. While I wanted to squeeze him and tell him everything would be okay, I sensed this dog was all about setting some boundaries. So we drove in silence, and I could see him staring at me in the rearview mirror the whole way home.

The following two weeks, we began to get to know each other. Charlie was reserved but curious, and while he would keep his distance, I felt his eyes on me at all times. He would sit and stare at me from around the corner while I worked on my computer but would only really approach for food and walks. The rescue would always provide me with a crate, but I left it open for him at all times in case he needed a safe space to hide in. For the first 14 days, Charlie would walk into the crate every night at bedtime. As much as I welcomed him to sleep in my room if he felt like it, I let him decide when he was ready.

Then one night, as I climbed under the covers, I heard his little paws walk into the bedroom. He walked straight past my partner at the time and causally jumped into the bed with me, snuggling his chunky head right up to me. From that day forward, Charlie was a changed dog. Similar to my first fostering experience and subsequently every dog after, once the dogs begin to feel comfortable, they reveal a whole different side to their personalities. Charlie was playful, loved to try and climb into my lap for snuggles (at around 50 pounds, it wasn't always the easiest feat), and go for short leisurely strolls. He also became protective of me.

One night, we were coming in from a walk when a drunk guy stumbled into the elevator with us. Charlie immediately sat on my feet in front of me, and when the guy started slurring something at me, Charlie let out a soft growl in warning. The guy backed off. While Charlie never displayed any aggression towards humans or animals, this dog had a different sense of the world around him. Anytime my ex would raise his voice at me, Charlie would be my side, offering a soft growl in warning. While ordinarily, he would snuggle with him too, if there were any ill-placed energy or intentions directed my way, Charlie would intervene. If there were ever a dog I wanted to adopt and make adjustments in my life, it would have been Charlie.

After five months, his first adoption request came in. A couple that lived a few streets away from me. Unfortunately, I was leaving to school in London for the summer in a few months, and I knew that I had to make that difficult decision to part ways. They ended up adopting him, and tears rolled down my face as they took Charlie to his new home. A week later, the couple called asking to return him because they didn't realize what a commitment a dog would be. When they brought Charlie back, he immediately jumped on me and rested his head on me for a good minute. We would have to try again.

One month later, another adoption request came in, and this time the rescue was far more diligent with the process. It was two sisters that wanted to adopt him, and when I met them, I had the sense they would be an excellent fit for him. Charlie left me again but this time, while challenging, felt a little more right. We parted ways again, and I knew I might never see him again as they lived far from me, but I would always have the hope that I would one day run into him.

It has been five years since Charlie had gone to his new home, but I still think of him from time to time. There was something special about him and our bond. I can't help but think we were meant to find each other. While my then relationship was at its tail end, it was a tumultuous time in my life; Charlie was a grounding force that would always put a smile on my face. The number of tears I shed on that sweet soul and how he would comfort me and be there for me will always stay with me.

But my story with Charlie doesn't entirely end here. At the end of last year, as I was driving in my neighborhood, I spotted a familiar squat body being walked by a familiar face. I didn't have a chance to pull over as there were cars all around me, but I immediately messaged my friends who had also met him. A week later, one of those friends ran into him and his owner and took a photo for me. It was Charlie. He looked like a little grandpa, with white fur sprouting all over his nose, and his eyes were glazed over with glaucoma. The owner mentioned that while the rescue thought he was only five when they got him, a different vet ended up saying he was actually around eight at the time. As it turned out, the owners had just moved a couple of blocks away from my place, so I resolved to see him at least once more. As at this point, he was already thirteen; I didn't know how much time he would have left.

A couple of weeks later, while driving down a side street, I spotted them again. This time I pulled over. I quickly said hello to the girl, asking if she remembered me, so she didn't think I was some stranger trying to roll up on her dog. Fortunately, she did and was more than happy to let me say hello to Charlie. She told me he was now blind due to age, and I could see his back legs were giving out a bit, but I crouched down, and he limped right over to me. He Nuzzled his chunky head in my lap, wagging his tail and licking my hands. I'm not exactly sure how dogs' memories work, but as it's linked to smell, I'd like to think that he remembered me and wasn't just being a polite old man. We stayed like that for a few minutes before I thanked his owner. As I got back in my car and started to drive away, I saw her lift him and carry him up the stairs to their place. I haven't seen Charlie since, and I'm not sure if he's here still today, but it warms my heart to think that this once stray and abused dog ended up having such a beautiful life.

Dogs are truly gifts to humans, and if there's ever a chance to rescue a dog, I implore everyone to explore that option. All they need is someone to take a chance on them no matter the age they still have so much love and life to give.