Rescued

I stood there in the ER, shaking and sobbing. Flashes of Teddy, my two year old tuxedo cat, seizing in my arms after several weeks of medical battles came over me. I blamed myself. The amount of guilt that I felt was heavy enough to bring even the moon to its knees. To lose someone is one thing, to watch them go is another.

For weeks I felt like I was operating on autopilot. I carried out the motions; wake up, pack lunch, go to work, come home, go to bed. I barely spoke to friends and family. My mom would call to check in, but I didn’t have much to say. My boyfriend, Kevin, would come home from work and find me asleep on the couch or in bed curled up before 8pm. Coming home to an empty house was almost unbearable. No patter patter of tiny paws or warm naptime cuddles. It was just me and unused cat toys. They were starting to get dusty.

I’ve always grown up with animals, mostly dogs, and so I had learned how to lose before. It’s always hard, but knowing that I gave them a loving life, a full life, made it easier to move on. I remembered how much I loved coming home to wagging tails as a kid, and so I made the decision to call my mom and tell her I was ready for a companion.

Kevin wasn’t on board as much as I was, because he had always had cats and had always waited years after losing a pet to get a new one. In my family, however, we knew there were dogs to be rescued and loved. I knew I would never be able to replace Teddy, but I also knew that there was a dog out there who needed me.

After searching through Petfinder, rescue leagues, shelters, etc., I made contact with an adoption representative from Sweet Paws. I told her my story of Teddy, and how I was ready to love an animal who needed to know what home meant. It was then that she sent me a picture of Lucky.

Lucky was rescued after the events of Hurricane Ida, which meant he would come with some baggage. He was only a year old, and had only known storms and starvation. Oh, and I should mention he was missing a leg. A “tripod”, as she called him. She said that three-legged dogs can be a challenge, because they require patience and help. Because of the storms, this also meant he could develop anxiety and fear during stormy weather which, living in Massachusetts, meant it was something he would have to endure.

That one picture took me instantly. He had a wide smile, beautiful squinty eyes, and just looked like love. I knew I needed him. This dog, this broken thing, would only know love for the rest of his life. I convinced Kevin to meet him with me and to just see how it goes. He agreed, and we were off.

It didn’t take long for Lucky to fall in love with us. At the foster’s house where Lucky was staying, we played and got plenty of kisses. At one point, he fell asleep on us. I can still remember Kevin sighing and looking over at me saying, “Well, I guess he’s ours now.”

“I’ve already changed his name to Bucky,” I laughed. How could I not give this dog a nerdy name? Especially the name of a character who, like this dog, was missing an arm.

Those first few weeks were wonderful. Bucky loved to cuddle, play, walk, eat my shoes, chew my brand new jacket, and just wanted nothing more than love and attention. His newfound disability didn’t stop him either. Yes, he’d fall over his big head in the yard. Yes, I laughed. A lot. But he’d get right back up and run again.

There was one night in particular, however, that sticks with me the most. Throughout this pandemic my work, social, and personal life have been put through the wringer. I have diagnosed anxiety disorder and depression, and have struggled with my self image every since I was a kid.

I had gone to the mall that day, and wasn’t really feeling like my best self. I walked through stores and aisles of crop tops and mini skirts, women with beautiful makeup and clear skin. That’s when I began to feel uncomfortable in my own. It became too much. Despite the fact that I was looking down the whole walk through, I felt eyes on me. Whether or not everyone was staring at my blotchy face or ill-fitting jeans, it didn’t matter. Having one person who looked at me was enough. All I wanted to do was go home to cry and to sleep.

I was supposed to go grocery shopping, but instead I went right home. I kicked off my shoes, let Bucky out of the crate, and crawled into bed. Usually when I get home, he goes for toys and his zoomies take over. That day, however, Bucky was calmer than usual. As I crawled into bed and covered myself with blankets, I could feel the tears pouring. I also felt something else; Bucky licking my face and calmly resting his head on my chest. This dog, this puppy, is usually so energetic that I get exhausted just watching him. In that moment, however, he was as calm and collected as could be.

There he was, his head on my chest, with his big deep brown eyes looking at me. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. He looked at me like I was the most wonderful thing in the universe he’d ever seen. He would not let me look away. If I turned my head, he’d move and pop up in front of me. He made sure I had my hand on him. I couldn’t believe that this animal that I’d only had for a few months seemed to know me so well. I was looking at a creature who seemed to be looking not at me, but inside of me. I didn’t need a confidence boost or a conversation about what I was experiencing. I just needed that look, that moment, where there was nothing but unconditional love and admiration.

Whenever I take Bucky out for walks or to local markets and outdoor shops, I always get asked “What happened to his leg?” As I tell them the story of his experiences and then his adoption, I’m met with “He’s so lucky to have you! He must be so glad that you rescued him!” I laugh and not, petting Bucky on the head.

Little do they know that Bucky was not the one who needed saving. Anyone would have been lucky to have him, and everyone always falls in love with him. Yes, he is a rescue dog. But I am his rescue human. He was rescued from a storm. But I was rescued from myself.