Sometimes, She's a Goose

After all the effort I had poured into the three-year relationship, after all I had sacrificed, leaving my home, my family, my friends, and moving to a big, strange city, I finally decided to leave, walking away from the two dogs we had adopted together.

However, I kept the one thing he had given me: a love for dogs.

I was very much a cat person before I lived with him. Toast was an eleven-year-old black cat I had brought with me to Arizona to be with the boy, and he was everything to me.

The boy convinced me to get the puppy. We saw that little dog in the window at the pet store in the mall, saw his name was Pancake, and I couldn’t say no.

I loved that little dog, falling as hard and as fast as I had for the boy. I did my best to train him but asking a cat person to train a puppy is asking for failure. He was spoiled rotten. He turned out to be a dick, and I’m saying that in the nicest way possible. I’m also fully aware it’s mostly my fault.

Toast died shortly after we got the puppy, so he was everything I had for a while. I had no friends, only the boy, and we had opposite work schedules. Taking care of Pancake soon became a pleasure, even with the never-ending accidents in the house and his stubbornness. He made me look forward to coming home, when it used to be a terribly lonely place. We adopted Char, a res mutt, about a year later, and he was the sweetest, most loving dog.

Leaving them tore my heart to shreds. It hurt more than it did to leave the human who took custody.

I found myself in the sleepy capitol of Helena, Montana, almost a year after I left the boy, living with my sister. She had two dogs, three cats, and a fifty-gallon fish tank all packed in a three-bedroom trailer with her and her husband. I had brought along a cat the boy had given me for my birthday, just a couple months before I left him, and that cat loved the chaos of living with all of the animals and being an outdoor kitty. I loved him dearly, but I had a hole in my heart I didn’t know how to fill.

I didn’t mean to adopt her so soon after moving to Montana. I was flat broke at the time and didn’t think I had a lot of time to take care of a dog. My sister wanted to take a road trip, so we drove the hour or so it took to go to Dillon and decided to take a peek into the shelter she had adopted her dogs from. We were just killing time, really.

Honestly, I didn’t mean to take a dog home that day, though I should’ve known better. The moment I saw her, the hole in my heart filled instantly.

I had first asked to see a pitbull mix. They brought out a four-month-old bull terrier puppy, as cute as can be, and I refused instantly. I had vowed not to get another puppy any time soon, as I still had no idea how I would train a puppy. I then asked for a dog who had been there for a long time, longer than most. The kind lady owner pondered my requests, then finally suggested to the caretaker, “What about Queenie?”

He went to get her, and when he brought her in the lobby of the tiny, podunk shelter, I saw the love of my life.

The first thing she did was roll on her back on my feet for belly rubs. A blonde Staffordshire terrier mix with a black snout and black eyebrows, she was exactly what I was looking for. We took her out on a walk, and she had absolutely terrible leash manners. For some reason, that didn’t bother me. Having to train a shelter dog wasn’t a concern of mine at all, now that I had met the one.

My sister said that when she saw us together, walking down the dirt road next to the shelter, the little mutt tugging her hardest at the leash, she somehow knew that this dog was special.

I paid the best $100 ever spent, and we drove home, she smiling widely and panting in the back, and my sister and I discussing her name in the front. I wanted to give her a name that sounded similar to “Queenie”, but I believe in changing a name for a pet when they’re starting a new life. And she was young enough to adjust to it quickly. We went back and forth, how about this name or that name or maybe this name? We exhausted many options, and the car had been silent for a few minutes before my sister said, “What about Poppy?”

She was Poppy that moment forward.

We’ve had some struggles over the two years I’ve had her; she’s as stubborn as a mule when she wants to be, easily traumatized by the smallest things, and a pain in my ass sometimes, but I couldn’t imagine a life without her. She’s gotten me through the most difficult times. She’s been my snuggle buddy on the loneliest days, my reason to get out of bed other days. She’s my joy and delight every day. She makes me laugh with her antics, is there when I cry, and we’ve shared many a hike together. She loves the dog park, running her fastest, to meet other dogs and play. She is my world.

So thank you, Ryan, for giving me this one beautiful love. I couldn’t have ever gotten her without you.