THE BEGINNING
All my life
I wanted just one thing. Birthdays, Christmas, graduations, any occasion permitting me to ask for a gift, I always had the same request; a dog. I was nothing if not persistent, I suppose my request was also extraordinarily consistent, allowing my parents forewarning to say “no”.
Fast-forward to when I was 22. I was living in my own apartment with my then-boyfriend. Again my desire to have a dog was strong, although I was a student I was in a stable place in my life. I started to go to the animal shelter looking for a dog, not really knowing what exactly I wanted. A few I liked and applied for, but was rejected.
I needed to decide what I really wanted, I didn’t know and it showed. Apartment life didn’t afford a lot of room, a small dog was ideal. Unfortunately, I preferred larger dogs, except dachshunds. My aunt had these peculiar little dogs when I was young, I had a certain soft spot for hounds. I loved their will tenacity, stubbornness, pleasant disposition, and I loved the fact that people found them funny. So I decided to research the breed, I decided I wanted a black and tan, not mini but not standard, not longhair but not short hair. The dog must have a long, elegant face, gentle sweet temperament and although I wanted a female, I felt I would find a male.
Then I forgot about it.
If you project what you want, exactly, into the universe, it will find you in time.
One day at school, a girl I knew wanted to visit the animal shelter. I arranged it with her, I knew where it was, and would show her around. When we got to the shelter, in the kennel directly facing the door was my dog. It was like a lightning-bolt struck me. This was the exact dog I dreamt up. Laying curled in a ball, shivering with his nose stuck against the bars of his prison, his bed rejected in the back corner of his kennel. I reached down and wrapped my hand around his nose while the other dogs in the room barked non-stop, vying for attention. He barely reacted. This was my dog.