Lola

In May of 2017, I was visiting with my daughter and we had just pulled up at the pet supermarket in town. As we got out of the car, we saw the animal control truck pull up and we both got excited, knowing we were going to be able to play with some puppies. We walked up and tried to get a sneak peek at the puppies that were being placed for adoption today when one of the workers opened a cage, revealing a scared brindle and white puppy. She looked to be around two to three months old and had the perfect puppy dog eyes as she locked eyes with me. The worker, I’m assuming sensed the connection between me and this puppy, picked up the puppy and put her in my arms.

As I held this puppy, I informed the animal control worker that I did not have the fees to adopt a puppy right now, but I wish I could. I tried to hand this puppy back, but he turned his back and continued to get the rest of the dogs prepared to take inside of the pet supermarket. My daughter and I just held and pet this puppy, as if our lives depended on protecting her. Another worker informed us that there was a mothers day special and the first three adoptions were actually fee free. All we had to do was purchase a collar and a leash to take this beautiful puppy home. My heart warmed at the idea of taking home my new best friend before I remembered that I did not live alone and it was cause trouble to take her home.

After an eternity of thinking about the consequences, I went inside with this puppy and filled out the paperwork after purchasing a collar and a leash so I was able to take my new best friend home with me. They had told me that her name was penny and I told them that the name did not fit her and I was going to be changing it. After finalizing the paperwork and officially being named as the new owner of this puppy, my daughter and I decided to grab something to eat and have a picnic in the park. I played with my new best friend while my daughter played on the playground after we ate our lunch, sharing with the new puppy of course. While at the park, the name of this puppy finally came to me, so I called my daughter back to where we sat in the grass. My daughter and I agreed that we were going to name her Lola. The puppy acted like she was on top of the world, knowing she was going home with me and not back to the place where I’m sure she was being kept in a cage most of the time.

Right before taking my daughter back to her dad’s house for the weekend, I sent a text to my step-mom, whom I lived with at the time. I told her that I had a surprise when I got back and was dropping my daughter off, then I would be on my way back. My step-mom quickly replied that it better not be a puppy. My heart sank as I read the message over and over, trying to think of a clever reply without telling them it was but without lying to them and saying that it was not.

A few short hours later, I pulled up at my house with my heart pounding in my chest, knowing that my dad and my step-mom were going to be furious with my decision. I walked inside with my new puppy and said the only thing that I could think of without being in too much trouble for what I did. I told them that she was a mothers day gift and allowed them to assume that it was from my daughter’s father’s family, instead of animal control and me making the decision to take this puppy home.

In the first week, she was coughing, puking, and had diarrhea. We already had two other dogs, a miniature dachshund, who was almost 18 years old and a dachshund/chihuahua mix, who was around six or seven years old. With the new puppy only sleeping and having this awful cough, we thought that she may have kennel cough. One day, while I was at work, my step-mom graciously took the puppy to the vet for me, knowing she needed to be checked out. The vet said that she only had a bad chest infection and prescribed her antibiotics along with a cough tablet. Within a few days, my new puppy was actually acting like a puppy again. She was playing, chewing on everything, going potty in the house as a normal untrained puppy would. It did not take long before I got her trained, so she was only going potty outside and the cough was all but gone. About four or five days after she recovered from the cold, she decided to poop in the house, in a corner. I, of course caught her and quickly ran to get her outside to finish, when I saw a long white, what looked like a string, hanging from her rear end. I quickly grabbed a few paper towels and grabbed ahold of the string, only to find it was a worm. I put the worm in a gallon sized zip lock bag before washing my hands several times, only to still feel like my hands were filthy.

I talked to my step-mom about it and we decided that I should take the worm to the vet’s office and inquire about what to do. The vet, being as they had just seen the new puppy less than a week ago, decided to just give me medication to kill and prevent worms in puppies. Now, I had a healthy puppy and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was meant to be somewhere. This puppy made me feel like a real person that belonged again and that is something that I will never be able to repay to her.

In July of 2021, Lola, who is now my PTSD service dog, got stolen in Laurel, Montana. There is a police report with the Yellowstone county sheriff’s office. There are missing dog posters up around town. There is a Facebook post on lost pets of Laurel and lost pets of Billings. It is now September of 2021 and there has been no word or sighting of my best friend. She meant as much to as any one of my kids. She is my kid, in a way. My heart aches for this dog. She literally saved my life on more than one occasion. This dog has literally saved me from going to prison on more than one occasion. I need my friend and companion back. She is not just my dog. She is my best friend. She is my savior. She is my whole world and without her, I’m starting to lose touch with reality. Whoever took my dog while I was getting her spot right in the car, knows that she is missing and that she is missed dearly. I have literally screamed her name until I could no longer speak, searching for her. There are reports with the police, with vet’s offices, with the animal shelter. There are papers taped to poles with her picture and my contact information. This person that has my dog, knows she is missing. It is not a matter of wanting her back, I need her back. She kept me sane and she kept me from driving off of a bridge. Without this dog, I have nothing to keep me grounded.