Steps.

I never thought a dog chose someone, but I swear she did.

When we were preparing to bring Penny to her new home, we were told her background. She was a part of a puppy mill in a different state, likely abused, and at some point had given birth to at least one litter of puppies. We were told she was a sweet and loving animal, but they weren't sure how she would be in a new environment. As potential owners were told this, I assume that they decided against adoption for that reason or something else.

I remember when I first saw Penny at the facility. I was looking for a specific breed. A Boxer. I knew they had a few at the facility, so I went to them first. It wasn't a fit, to my dismay, so we kept looking around. None of the animals felt like they would be a fit. Then, I happened to walk past Penny's kennel on my way to check out another dog. I heard her scratch her window to get my attention. So I double-backed.

She smiled as I walked back. One of the things I liked about this facility was that they encouraged potential adopters to spend time with animals they wanted in play areas. As soon as we got to the play area and interacted, it was immediate; she felt like family. A long-lost member of the group, that found her way home.

Fast forward a week; there was paperwork and testing and prep that needed to be done before she could go home.

During this time, I was in an apartment on the third floor. We go up the stairs, open the door, and give Penny the time she needs to explore her new home. Then she decides it's time to go to the bathroom. She's a brilliant dog. A Border-Collie and Golden Retriever mix.

As we get ready to go outside, she becomes very anxious and nervous. I would soon learn that she scratches a particular spot on her body when stressed out. Finally, we got to the top of the steps, put her paws on the steps, and froze in place.

I couldn't get her to budge an inch. So I sat with her. We sat and rested and looked out of the big windows in my building. Watching the life happening outside. Cars going by, people walking in and out, kids playing, other people and their animals enjoying their time outdoors. She seemed intrigued, but she also seemed nervous. I suspect that this had to do with her life before joining our life. So we sat some more.

All this sitting and observing made me think of something I did with my dad growing up. At least once a week, we would go to a particular corner in my neighborhood, sit down on this ledge and just watch the cars go by. I don't recall the things we discussed, but I do remember the time we spent. It was our thing, our time together to just talk or sit or just be. Nothing was expected of me. It was nice. So Penny and I sat.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is just be there. I think to this day, that's what she needed. Whatever her world was before joining our family, I think she was processing finally being done it and embracing where she was now.

A few hours later, she was ready to make her way downstairs. So we went, and she was better for it. I've never seen a dog go to the bathroom as enthusiastically as she had that day.

Taking the first step can be tricky; it is much easier with support.