Rescue Dog With A Smile

The date was March 19th, 2020 and a stay-at-home order had been declared in California. COVID-19 had already begun to sink it’s spikes into the lives of thousands of Americans across the country, but now it was the Golden State’s turn to take action and, well, mine too. Living on the edge of Angelino Heights, the precipice of Downtown Los Angeles, I was caught between the spillage of Skid Row inhabitants and the skeptical punks of Echo Park that made going outside something I now feared. As someone who prefers the outdoors and lives to interface with strangers and friends abound, this was a type of challenge that required of myself something, something as simple as staying inside, alone and with myself; not completely alone, as I live with my boyfriend, but you understand what I mean. What could be worse than a virus spreading like wildfire in a state used to wildfires than having to sit on the couch and think about my own thoughts? In March of 2020, I would have asserted that nothing could be worse, but with the humbling efforts of time (and the news), I came to know that there are far more treacherous outcomes living in a world learning as it goes.

It wasn’t until the first of April and a week before my 29th birthday that my boyfriend and I decided to dread a life of solitude, together, no longer. We both started following every possible dog rescue from Santa Monica to the edges of San Bernardino. Liking and messaging, DMing one another and frantically reaching out about every precious pup that popped up on our iPhone screens. After days of rejection and foster applications, we finally embarked on a journey down an unknown road we now know to be paved with gold. It started off like any other day of liking and facing countless, “sorry, they’ve already been adopted,” when we came across a small creature that looked like the perfect crossover between Dobby from Harry Potter and a baby bat. Her name was (emphasis on was) “Jo” and she was described as an, “adorable Miniature Pinscher with a good level of energy and colorful eyes that are full of expression,” which was far from a lie based on the photos and videos in the famed Labelle Foundation’s post. At that moment I simply knew, that is our dog. There was no big how or why, just a confident understanding that those expressive eyes staring at me through the screen were the eyes of our dog.

Frantic was my name from the moment I saw her to the exchanges in the conversations that proved my boyfriend and me right. It took about 3 days before it was time to pick up “Jo” and bring her home. It was April 8th, the day before my birthday, and I was elated. Mind you, I had never had a dog of my own and with it being a month into quarantine, I was ready to have a loyal companion and distraction from the strange state of affairs befallen on the world. I drove across time, from the east side, to Beverly Hills, to meet her foster and bring her home. Once we got in the car, I panicked, because this wasn’t like pet-sitting a friend’s dog who I already knew, this was something bigger. Her ad claimed that she was full of energy and super friendly, but once it was just the two of us in the car she went silent, just staring at me as if to ask, “who are you?” Every preconceived notion I had about her weird and spunky personality couldn’t be wrong, right? They would never mis-advertise a dog because that would be….wrong, right? Or does she already know she hates me? These were the thoughts that plagued my mind on our 30-minute drive home; her big expressive eyes, peering at me from the side of her sullen face.

We sat on the couch, watching as she sniffed every corner of our east side apartment. “Does she hate it? Is she scared? What if she really doesn’t like us already?” were the questions I kept asking my boyfriend on repeat because I’ve never owned a dog and how was I to know what was normal. It took about an hour before she began hopping around, begging for the toys we bought her and the snacks we admittedly were bribing her affection with. She took a nap on my lap, I cried, and the pattern began again. When night fell, on the eve of my 29th, we put her in her crate and closed the door. She burrowed for the first time, both into the blankets and into our hearts –– it’s cheesy, but Min Pins burrow and I’ve become one of those people. With that being said, upon waking up the next day to balloons and my first quarantine birthday, I remembered that a bigger gift was waiting to be unwrapped beneath a small heap of fleece blankets. Unbeknownst to me, as I unwrapped the small bat from her shelter, those big expressive eyes were already waiting to greet me with what I will always defend as a smile. Ollie was there. It’s hard to say how we decided on that name because it feels generic and we’re not your average types, but Olive, the name we’d never called, Ollie for short was here and ours and it’s been a beautiful ride ever since. She smiles without knowing it, but in my heart, she smiles because she knows she’s home.

I was never opposed to adopting, however, I always had fantasies of owning a dog that was “cool” and sought after. It took a close friend of mine, Taylor, educating me on the beauty of adopting a rescue and the lives it changes, both yours and the dogs and how fulfilling that is, to change the course of one’s thinking. There’s a rescue for everyone and for the rest of my life I will only be bringing in pups that have backstories to go with mine. No human is perfect and I’ve learned that no dog should be either. My sweet Ollie is the queen of cuddling and loves meeting new people, other dogs on the other hand...we’re working on that, but for now the love she shares when we’re home is worth the struggle of searching for her before I knew she was mine.