I wasn’t absolutely positive two weeks ago that we should get another dog.
Our three cats aren’t particularly open to making new friends. Our fat 11-year-old Beagle-pit mix, Rosie, was perfectly content snoozing the day away in her bed filled with Nylabones and memory foam. Doug could do without the extra fur around the house. The only ones who were clamoring for another dog were the kids, who swore till kingdom come that they’d be the ones to take care of him. But you know how that goes, and I already had too much on my plate.
Before long, I had an epiphany that all beautiful things in life that are worthwhile come with a risk. And so I plunged.
Hearts, llc, an animal rescue transport service that brings homeless animals from the South to new families in the Northeast, brought Neno to Southington. It was a sixteen-hour journey from Tennessee, and it showed. His head was down, and there was no wag to his tail. He looked like a mismatched Lego kit–with a long, black, slender German Shepherd body and a small tan Beagle head. He didn’t look at me–instead, he turned to Jason, the driver who I later learned kept Neno’s kennel close and fed him treats at every opportunity, and sank his head in his lap. Jason murmured something into his ear, kissed him on the head and said, “Please give him a chance. He’ll warm up to you.” He warned that because of Neno’s trust issues, I might need his help getting him into my car. He handed me the leash. Reluctantly, Neno followed.
When we got to my car, it was just as Jason predicted. Neno came to an abrupt halt and stood paralyzed with uncertainty. He was terrified, and truthfully, so was I. For the first time, he looked up at me with brown, soulful eyes, and we locked gazes. I believe it was at that moment that Neno had the same epiphany that I did. He took the plunge and hopped in.
That was two weeks ago. Since that day, I’ve had a constant black and tan shadow at my side. When I stand still, he leans his entire body against mine, as though to protect me from invisible intruders. If I’m behind a closed door, he waits patiently at the other side. When I sit, he curls into my lap–and if I lie down, he wedges himself between me and the couch, belly up with all four paws in the air. When I walk up or down the stairs, I hear the thunder of his footsteps racing behind. The cats, who were initially all hisses and bushy tails, now ram their heads against him and weave between his feet. Rosie has a new spring to her step and is finally agreeing to go on walks again. Neno sits, lies down and gives high fives on command. He stays in the yard, and he always comes when I call him. He doesn’t bark or whine. And best of all, he loves all three of our children.
Sometimes he chews things he’s not supposed to. He pees on the floor when he doesn’t want to go out in the rain. And he reveals his stranger danger by growling at everyone he meets…at least for the first five minutes.
But we’re working on it. The truth is, we have to. Because now that Neno’s in my life, I’m not sure how I came this far without him.
I don’t know why there are homes without a dog or two or maybe even three…but I’m glad ours isn’t one of them.
Welcome home, Neno.
