Stray Dog to the Rescue

I am not a dog person — at least that is what I told myself for 40 years.

Growing up, I shared my house with cats. They slept on my bed and kept me company while I was doing homework. When I moved out on my own, one of the first items I got for the new apartment was a cat!

I like that cats use a litter box and do not need walks when it’s cold outside. They are moody and prefer their personal space, just like me. Cats and I are like peanut butter and jelly — we go together well.

I had never considered getting a dog.

Then one day, my youngest child decided he needed a dog. He felt sure his life would be better with a canine companion. Plus, all his friends had dogs.

I resisted his pleas for several years because a dog seemed like a lot of work, and it felt impossible to fold another responsibility into our busy life. But when my son started walking around the neighborhood to visit random dogs, I realized we did need one for him.

The Perfectly Imperfect Dog

I’m a planner, so after finally agreeing to get a dog, I spent months researching the best dog for our family. I decided that it needed to be a medium-sized, short-haired breed that was at least three years old and interacted well with cats.

Every day, I would go online and peruse the pictures of dogs available for adoption at our local Humane Society. I was looking for the perfect match, and one day, I found her.

I immediately drove to the center and asked to see the dog that met all my carefully chosen criteria, but another person was already visiting with her.

While waiting for my turn, I walked around the center and looked at the other animals. As I neared the end of the dog hallway, I saw a pup who instantly stole my heart.

She was a lab-mix who was seven months old and painfully thin. I sat down at her kennel, and she tentatively walked over to me. Her eyes were sad, and she looked scared. I felt heartbroken for her, and I knew she needed a good home.

Instead of the older, medium-sized, short-haired dog I had intended to adopt, I left with a long-haired, large breed puppy who had been a stray and likely never lived with a cat. It was an impulsive decision fueled by a desire to help a dog in need.

Welcome Home

We named our new pup Molly.

The rescue center didn’t know much about her background, but it was clear she had experienced a difficult start in her life. Molly was terrified of men with white hair, blankets, and our cat (that was a lucky break!).

As a first-time dog parent, I quickly learned the importance of puppy-proofing a house. Molly chewed her way through an expensive pair of headphones, her doggie gate, and my favorite shoes. That was just day one.

She was also a flight risk and would bolt out of every open door to chase deer, rabbits, and the occasional delivery person.

I exercised Molly as much as possible to keep her from acting out. Unfortunately, she had no experience walking on a leash, so she would pull like a racehorse every time I tried to walk or run with her. I was often more exhausted than she was at the end of our outings.

Over the next few months, I questioned my decision to adopt this pup. Why had I chosen to disrupt my peaceful life with an energetic young dog? Why hadn’t I stuck with my carefully researched plan? Was I truly a cat person?

I knew I needed professional help, so I took Molly to several dog training classes, and slowly we both learned to work with each other. After lots of treats and sliced hot dogs, the visible outline of her ribs faded into her coat, and we found our rhythm.

She and I settled into a comfortable routine.

The Day She Rescued Me

This September, five years after adopting Molly, she rescued me.

It was a typical weekday evening. Molly and I were out on a short after-dinner walk around the neighborhood. I was listening to music and enjoying the cooler evening air when I suddenly felt dizzy. It hit me fast and hard, and I immediately tried to sit down on the curb.

I did not make it, and the next thing I knew, I was lying half in the road, and Molly was frantically licking my face. I had dropped her leash, but she stayed by my side, encouraging me to wake up.

I’m not sure how long I was out, but the sky was darker, and my face was wet from Molly’s licks.

I went to the Emergency Room, and over the next six weeks, I had a lot of tests on my heart and head. As I suspected, I’m hard-headed but apparently good-hearted.

Although the medical team could not identify the reason for my syncopal episode, all the worst-case scenarios were ruled-out, and I’m back to walking and running with Molly.

Five years ago, I made an impulsive decision that changed my life — I welcomed a dog into the family. She has been an unexpected blessing.

Molly is my constant companion, a friend who gives more than she takes, and someone who stayed by my side when I needed her the most.

I am a cat person who was rescued by a stray dog.

Life is full of surprises.

This article was originally published on Medium.