A Wandering Soul

In life, we are at times met with situations that cannot be explained by our own earthly terms. Events take place that leave us wondering how things fell the way they did, how our hearts could have gotten so lucky. When this happens, we tend to call these miracles. It's a word that, when taken into context, means an unnatural phenomenon. Something incredulous. Something that honestly had little to no chance of taking place. I would like to tell you the story of the time that I found mine.

The story begins with me moving to Tahlequah, Oklahoma. It's a small woodsy area that is filled with a rustic charm. What brought me to this area was my desire to pursue a degree in Psychology at Northeastern State University. I simply had a hunger for something more than my current job in fast food. A desire to chase after more than what I had in the past. A yearning for something different but meaningful all the same. I already had my first two years of college under my belt. Two more years and I could be a graduate holding a Bachelor's degree in Psychology. How cool was that?

As someone who deals with intense anxiety and depression, this was a big step for me. So far out of my comfort zone, and so incredibly far from my family and loved ones. If something went wrong, as they normally did, how would I recover from such a giant leap? At the same time, it seemed worth risking. I was thankful that, with my parents help, I was able to afford a small studio within walking distance of the school. It was cute enough, very small but in a way that worked for me. I even got to take my cat Chino along!

Little did I know, fate was setting me up for more than just a degree that seeks to understand the mind. About a semester into my degree, one of my professors offered bonus points to her students for volunteering. This woman was incredible to be honest, and soon turned into my research mentor. She said we could go anywhere in the area. Volunteering even as little as one hour would be rewarded with extra credit. All we had to do was write a short reflective essay over the experience.

Me being the introvert that I am, I decided that if I really wanted to get the bonus points then the best way would be to volunteer at an animal shelter. My professor recommended the Humane Society of Cherokee County, telling me that they always needed extra people to walk the dogs. This seemed scary to me, meeting all of these new humans and undoubtedly having to force myself into small talk with them, but something inside told me to do it.

Besides, who doesn't love dogs? They probably needed this more than I did.

"Think of it as a quest," I whispered to myself timidly as I pulled my bright yellow truck into the parking lot. "Once you have completed your quest, you can go home and reward yourself with another cup of coffee."

The first day was met with so many kisses to the face. Most of them, to be honest, were given by this guy. His name was Blue, a seventy something pound mixed breed that the shelter staff dubbed a Catahoula Leopard Dog. His fur was dabbled with mixtures of black, brown, and white. He reminded me of a tiger, as there were even stripes across his back. His excited barking made me smile at him.

This dog named Blue was so friendly and loving, his big tail whooshing back and forth from the moment I walked up to his kennel. It was big enough, though honestly wasn't much larger than my bathroom at the studio. He had a large water bowl that was basically an iron bucket. This dog really enjoyed his water. He also had an igloo-like dog house. Besides that, that was all that he really had to keep him busy in his kennel. Although I knew the shelter staff were doing the best they could, this made me feel saddened for the energetic soul as he jumped up against the kennel fencing, begging me with his large brown eyes to come play with him.

I asked the staff if I could take him for a walk. They told me that since he was a bigger dog and also dog aggressive, then he needed to be walked by experience staff only. This surprised me, because he really did not seem aggressive to me at all. They did let me slide into his kennel and play with him, but I couldn't help but want more with him. More time with him, and more freedom, as I'm certain Blue wanted that, too. I asked the staff his story. He had been picked up at a small town nearby called Vian. They did not have room for a dog as large as him at their shelter, so they transported him to Tahlequah. His age was a guestimate at about eight years old, seven of which had been spent confined in a kennel. No one had decided to adopt him yet.

As I drove home that night, I couldn't understand why. He seemed like such an incredible soul to me, such a kind hearted fellow. Days passed and I found myself dropping by the shelter just to say hello to him. Although all the dogs needed some love, Blue had nabbed a special place in my heart. I knew there was no way I could adopt him right away, as I had such a tiny home as it was and he deserved a big yard to play in. Besides, my chain-length fence was falling apart and barely four foot tall. He could clear that in a heartbeat.

After about a week of volunteering at the shelter, I again asked the staff if I could work with Blue. I didn't even mind coming outside of volunteer hours if that was what needed to happen. I wanted to work with him. I wanted to teach him obedience commands and help him find a home. More than anything, I wanted to see him adopted. It hurt to think of him leaving the shelter to another home that wasn't mine, but it hurt even more to think of him staying another eight years in that small kennel.

After speaking about the possibility, the shelter committee decided that they would let me work with him as long as I did so when there were no other dogs out. I also got a part-time job at the shelter so that I could spend more time with Blue during my off-time from school. It didn't pay much in cash, but it paid dividends in my getting to work with Blue and learn more about him. I quickly made him my shelter buddy, and had officially committed to spending at least three hours a week with him. This wasn't much, but every bit of time I spent with him added up into that much stronger of a bond with him.

We started with simple tricks that I knew he could handle. I had trained plenty of dogs in my lifetime, having grown up with them. Sitting on command was easy enough, as was walking on the lead without pulling too much. He caught on so immensely quick. We moved onto more advanced tricks like shaking my hand with his paw, rolling over, and even a cute "whisper" which involved Blue giving a small and rather quiet bark. This was one that the shelter staff and everyone else fell in love with.

After several weeks of training with Blue, I could feel my confidence skyrocketing. This dog looked at me like I was his world. Like everything in his life revolved around me. One of the long-time volunteers told me that she'd noticed he recognized my truck now as soon as it pulled into the parking lot. Not only did he not take his eyes off of me when I was out feeding the other dogs, but he'd also watch the building waiting expectantly for me to come back out.

As the months passed, we began to get into advanced training where I would walk Blue around the other dogs. He actually wasn't as dog aggressive as they coined him. We walked all around the clearing out back, coming less than a few feet from other dogs without a word from Blue. As long as Blue felt like he was in a safe and controlled area, he was okay with the other dogs.

Eventually, Blue taught me a trick of his own. I was running across the clearing with him, getting that massive energy he had stored in him out of there, when I suddenly stopped and clicked my tongue-which we had already been using as our cue for the next command. I was just messing around with him at first, but Blue did something incredible. He came to a halt right alongside me, pressing his body up against my thighs, and then just looked up at me with those big eyes. Waiting for the moment that I would decide to move us. Watching and searching for a cue.

I was stunned. It was like he was another part of me at that point, having melded into me. I was so impressed that that night I made a post on social media about what had happened. One of my military friends who had been following our progress commented and told me that "That is how military dogs choose people. That Blue chose you. You have a friend for life." I wanted to cry when I read that, thinking about him at the shelter after I had gone home. It was heartbreaking to think about.

The longer we worked together, and the more hours I spent at the shelter watching prospective adopters pass by his cage, the more in pained me that they kept passing Blue up. He looked "scary". He was too "big". He just wasn't "a good fit". I got to where each comment made me angry.

"God is saving him for you," my mom told me one night. "As soon as you graduate and can get into a bigger place, you can take him home."

That spring, the shelter put on a volunteer event for the dogs and their shelter buddies at a store called Tractor Supply. Most of the dogs were able to be out and about during this. However, because of Blue's supposed aggression towards dogs, he had to had to sit in his kennel on his own, so I sat with him. There was no sense in him spending an exciting day all on his own. I lugged his large water bowl to the store with us.

It was a fun day. At one point, Blue decided that it would be a good idea to step into his water bucket. Not only did he do that, but he also thought I looked a little bit too hot in my shorts and t-shirt, digging into the water bowl and splashing me from head to toe in his drinking water. I couldn't help but laugh at his goofy behavior. I threw my arms around him and pulled him close in a tight hug. I imagined for about the hundredth time how great of a cuddle buddy he would make.

Pedestrians would come and look at the dogs, saying how cute they all were. One elderly lady in particular found her way over to us. She had curly white hair, dressed in a beautiful light blue blouse and a flower skirt. I wasn't sure what she'd have to say about Blue, as I had already heard one girl mumble about how "mean" he looked. I prepared myself, and had already told myself that the next person with something cross to say about the sweet boy would have some harsh words from me.

"What is he doing here?" The lady asked, looking at the other dogs who were sitting quietly with the volunteers several feet away.

I explained to her what we were doing, and that we were trying to help them find their forever homes. She looked at me like I was not making any sense to her at all, her eyes going from Blue to me and then back to Blue. He gave an excited bark at her and walked over to say hello, his tail wagging.

"He already has his forever home," she told me, nodding at me. "He loves you. You're his momma. I can tell. Why isn't he living with you?"

I was taken aback by the question, but told her that I was university student and wasn't sure if Blue would be happy in a tiny home like mine. Not to mention, the landlord situation. They didn't like dogs at all. I had to think of what was best for Blue. I knew the lady meant well, but I didn't think it was in the cards.

"Things don't ever seem to be in the cards," she told me sternly. "We have to make them fit. And I think you can do that for him. He seems to have done it for you."

After talking it over with my parents, I decided that the lady was right. As my military friend had said, Blue had chosen me. He wanted me. He needed me, and I needed him. My dad agreed that waiting another year until I graduated meant nothing if by the time that year passed Blue was already gone, whether it be to another home or to the rainbow bridge. He was getting old, after all.

It was a little rocky getting Blue passed the landlord, but I managed to do so by getting Blue certified as an Emotional Support Dog. This happened while he was still at the shelter. Once that was taken care of, I approached the shelter staff about seriously adopting Blue. About making him mine. About making me his. They all voted that it was a great fit, and that Blue couldn't be happier anywhere else. I just had to make sure to keep him away from other dogs.

On Adoption Day, I was so excited I didn't even pay attention in class. I couldn't have told you what we had gone over that day or what my professors lectured about. I excitedly told everyone I knew (and even some people that I didn't) that Blue was finally getting out of there. That he was finally coming home with me. That I would finally get my best friend with me. That I wouldn't have to worry about him spending another night sleeping alone in that plastic igloo.

I documented so much of that moment, taking pictures of Blue as he sat in the waiting room with me. I even took the photo that they had of him on his kennel, and our shelter buddy documents. It was without a doubt the best eighty dollars I would ever spend.

However, when the shelter facilitator came out of the back room, she had a worried look on her face. She explained to me that they usually scan dogs for chips as soon as they came in. Blue, however, must have been missed.

"What are you saying?" I asked, wrapping my arm around Blue and nervously running my hand through his fur.

The shelter facilitator explained that Blue did have a chip. It showed that he was from Minnesota, about fourteen hours away from us and on the other side of the United States. He was registered to a phone number. He belonged to somebody. He was missed by somebody.

My heart tore into two right then. I was usually quiet, but I stood straight up and slid the adoption papers onto the desk. I knew where she was going with this, but I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't. Not after all we had been through. It just didn't seem fair.

"Are you telling me that I won't be able to adopt Blue?"

"No, I'm not saying that." She told me with a sigh. Blue walked over to me and licked me on the leg, completely oblivious to the current and tense conversation. "I'm just saying that we need to follow up and see if we can contact them. See what they say. These people could be missing him."

I didn't know what to say, but knew deep down that she was right. What if Blue really did have a home somewhere already? What if they had lost him somehow, and loved him just as much as I already did? What if he was missing them, too?

After about an hour, we managed to get into contact with the number connected to the dog chip. I felt a huge wave of relief wash over me, but also sadness as I realized that there was so much more to Blue's story than any of us had thought. The dog sitting at me feet had somehow gotten out of another dog shelter located hundreds of miles away. Not only that, but he had then managed to find his way here.

What all had Blue seen? What all had Blue done?

Once we finished the adoption papers, I took Blue outside on his new harness and lead that I had purchased just for the occasion. I was so happy to finally be using it. So full of excitement and gratitude to the universe for finding this dog and bringing him to me. It seemed like everything had gone perfectly. You know, minus the scare that Blue was actually a long-lost dog that had owners looking for him back in Minnesota. That part was a little scary.

Even still, there's always a snag that tends to come up. I had parked right up front by the door, hoping to be able to take Blue right into the truck with me. I didn't factor in that the dog kennels were right next to it, or that one of the more aggressive dogs was sitting right beside the vehicle in his own kennel. We walked around the truck so that I wouldn't have to take Blue next to them, but with all the excitement going on something went off in Blue. The other dogs were barking so excitedly at him, and not in a good way.

I tried to prepare myself. I saw it in his raised hackles as we neared the vehicle and the kennels, sensed it in the way he tensed up. The glint in his eye as he looked towards the hound about six meters from us. The dog was barking at us.

Before I could stop it, Blue threw us both forward at the dog closest to us. I tried to keep hold of him, and managed to do so successfully, but not without falling to the dirt parking lot beneath me. My bare legs scraped painfully against the rock as Blue pulled us closer, teeth bared and chomping down on nothing but air as he glared at the other barking dogs. I didn't let go, but I hollered for help from the shelter staff that were still in the office. It was getting dark out. I could barely see, and I wondered then if I was way over my head.

Everyone ran outside, including one of my friends who was on the shelter committee, the groundskeeper, and also the shelter facilitator. I heard it as Blue finally made contact with the dog on the other side of the kennels, listened as the spine curdling yelp hit my ears. Blue had latched onto the dog's muzzle, and I was seeing blood droplets hit the ground beneath us. At this point tears were burning my eyes.

"Get him off!" The groundskeeper hollered as he ran over to help.

Everyone else did too. We all were terrified. Together we pulled Blue away from the other dog, taking him over to the center of the lot so that he could calm down. He kept trying to pull us back, but we were ready this time.

"I don't know why he did that," I said, exasperated as I sat down next to the dog. He was calming down now, giving a little whimper now as he looked over at me.

"He's an aggressive dog," the groundskeeper said angrily as he walked away from us. He called over his shoulder as he went to take care of the hurt dog in his kennel. Blue, thankfully, had no injuries. "He is just going to start fights with everyone. He can't be with anyone without doing that."

"He is stressed!" My friend from the board defended him, kneeling down to pet his back. "They all are."

At that point, the facilitator looked at me. "You don't have to take him," she told me, unsure now as to whether or not we could continue with the adoption.

"We all have issues," I told her, hugging Blue now. He walked over now to the truck door, waiting expectantly. "I'm not bailing on him just because he's scared of where he is. This place could make anyone crazy. I want him and I'm not leaving without him."

The shelter facilitator nodded, at which point my friend from the board took the lead from the facilitator and handed it to me. There were tears in her eyes as she spoke her next words:

"Get him out of here. Take Blue home."

As I had dreamed of doing so many times since that first day that I met Blue, we drove home together. Blue seemed to understand that he was going somewhere completely different than anywhere he had ever been before.

What followed that incredible day were so many more. Blue helped me to overcome my depression, pushing me across the finish line as I graduated with my Bachelor's degree. He even went to a few classes with me, certified as an official Emotional Support Animal, and helped us to put on events for my fellow students where anyone who wanted to could come to our table and kill some of their stress by hugging and petting a cute dog. We went on hikes together, swimming in the lake, and even spent several nights sitting beneath the stars.

During this time that has passed since I adopted Blue out, I also learned a few more things about him. The first thing? He is actually a Dutch shepherd. He is very much a working dog, the trainer that we saw telling me that dogs just like him perform work for the military and with the police. His whisper trick? That's actually something they are trained to do, too. They use it to deter their enemies, or gain one's attention, but Blue just does it to be silly. It makes me laugh every time.

The next thing I learned about Blue was that he hates thunderstorms. Not just hates, but he has a huge phobia of them. My guess is that it has something to do with all the years he spent out in them. How do I know this? He smashed through my living room window. It was honestly a terrifying moment. I had no idea if he was going to make it or not as I rushed him to the vet. The doctor told me that, had I not been home when this had happened, he wouldn't have survived.

Another fun fact about Blue? He most certainly is not dog aggressive or even in the slightest bit a mean dog. Like my shelter friend said, if you are confined in a stressful place, you will be stressed. You will do things that are not like you, and in no way should they define who you are. Blue currently rooms with three other animals, one of which is a cat and is honestly one of Blue's best buds. The dogs in the house are like Blue's pack. Every last one of us depends on the other for companionship and guidance in this crazy life. We all sleep together in a queen-sized bed at night, and I don't think Blue would be happy if he had to give up any of them. You can see it in the way he looks at Tobi as they play tug-of-war, or in how Tobi comes to Blue's defense anytime he hears him barking on the other side of the yard. It's beautiful.

All and all, life is full of surprises. Tiny ones that don't seem like too big of a deal at first, like the day I got accepted to Northeastern State University, and then big ones like the day I managed to adopt Blue, a wandering soul who had traveled hundreds of miles for me to be able to find him. For him to be able to find me. What all did he do in that time frame? What all did he see? I suppose that's just a question that I'll never be able to answer. That's okay. As long as Blue is with me, I think we can overcome just about any challenge. That's what life is. Learning to fight, and learning who is worth fighting for. I'm glad I fought for Blue, but I am even more thankful that he had the courage to fight for me.