Charlie

Hi Mom (and everyone else),

Welp...it's been a year. A little more than a year actually. And what a year it was. So many things happened, some great things...and some heartbreaking.

But I'm back. We'll see if it sticks, I hear my pessimistic voice say. But one blog post won't kill me, if anything it's a welcome distraction (I am currently sitting at my post at my school's Fitness Center, swiping cards. One can only watch so many episodes of America's Next Top Model in a row before looking for another distraction).

I may eventually delve into the life altering events that occurred during these past fifteen months that I've refused to blog, but for now, let me gush about the newest addition to my life: Charlie.

This is Charlie, if you hadn't already guess ^ 

(featuring a blurry Bill in the background)

Jason and I adopted Charlie on April 28th, my last week of sophomore year at Ringling. Here is how he came to be...more or less. 

Since moving in together, Jason and I had entertained the idea of getting a pet. I had never lived in a home without a dog,  and very much wanted a furry creature to cuddle and play with. For Jason, the idea was a little harder to grasp. While he loves animals (he is actually currently working for a local Doggy Daycare), Jason was having a hard time not hearing, "You're not enough. I need more," whenever I mentioned wanting an animal...and I mentioned it a lot.  

But he entertained my ideas nonetheless. We went back and forth between a cat or a dog. For most of the Fall, we were planning on getting a cat. But I could never commit. I spent hours out of my days scanning the local shelters, waiting for one to just click. Ultimately, I know now it's because of Jason's allergies towards cats. While he always assured me he wanted a cat too, I couldn't stand the idea of getting one, getting attached and both of us falling in love and then him being too miserable in his own house because he couldn't breathe from his cat allergies. No, no cat.

Thus, led us to the inevitable idea of a dog. We love dogs. I'm one of those people who will be out and about and if I see a dog, every fiber of my being focuses in on said dog and my thirst for dog interaction will not be quenched until I either a) pet it or b) have an entire conversation about how cute it in in a choir falsetto voice that's so high only the dog can hear it. We love dogs...but the idea of adopting one was daunting. I'd always had dogs, but I'd never been a parent to a dog. 

We both knew entertaining the idea of getting a dog was silly, irresponsible even. We're in the middle of our college careers, in a strange city, far far away from our families. We have each other and a handful of close friends. Not to mention, low paying part time jobs. Just paying for the pet deposit on our rental seemed daunting. And thus, Fall turned into Winter, then to Spring and I came to the end of my sophomore year, looking ahead at an entire summer in Florida with only a few hours of work a day to look forward to. 

It may come as no surprise that my entire Ringling experience so far has been a rollercoaster of anxiety, flickers of approval, a need to be better and with that a loss and gain of weight. My mind has not been it's sharpest, my body has struggled even more, and my spirit has been bandaged back together by my other half so many times I've lost count. 

One weekend during the Spring, while at our friend's (or more like adoptive parents) in Orlando,  I got a call from my dad. I don't remember the exact words, Dad used, but I remember I was in the bedroom, going through my clothes, and Jason was in the shower. Dad told me in a few words that our beloved family dog, Evan, was very sick. It had come about very quickly, and Evan hadn't once shown any signs of being in pain. Evan passed away the next day, in the arms of the person he loved most, my mom. 

My family had also lost our other dog, Katy, who I've written about previously. Katy had been such a fighter and lived a long life. Evan on the other hand, was taken so soon and so suddenly. Losing him was a different kind of hell for my family. As hard and heart wrenching as the passing of a pup is, for me, it's not something that makes me go, "I will never have another dog. I can't go through that again." Because being chosen and loved by a dog so far outweighs all the pain and grief that inevitably follows. I didn't know it at the time but subconsciously, Evan's passing was a large part of my leap to adopting Charlie. 

It was mid-April that I stumbled upon Charlie, previously known as Mattie, on the Bishop Shelter website. 

The stark contrast between Mattie and Charlie is so great, I didn't realize until looking at his adoption photo. You should know, that when Jason, me and our dear friend Clelia, went to the shelter on the morning of the 28th, Charlie was one of two dogs we were looking at. 

I couldn't sleep the night before. The entire previous day I kept whispering "puppy" under my breath. We got to the shelter before it even opened and waited. The first dog we met was not Charlie, but a big boy named Cuban, who weighed 68lbs, was a big medicine ball of energy and as sweet as can be. But his papers stated that his reason for being put up by his previous owner was that he wasn't good with other dogs....which stuck with me and lodged itself in my brain as a problem. Granted, I didn't always trust shelter's judgement when it came to the dogs personalities, having had both Katy and Evan turn out so different after adopting them. Still, it worried me. Especially with Jason and I agreeing that he would take whatever we dog we got with him to work regularly, especially when summer comes to an end.

Jason was entirely shut off from me through the adoption process. Looking back now, I understand the nerves and the demons of his own that he was facing as we walked around the shelter. Jason ended up loving Cuban, who wouldn't? Heck, I loved him too... but I got the sense that he wouldn't do well in our small apartment, and no fenced in yard.  When I suggested we see the other dog, and then think about it, I could tell Jason felt shut down. So, back Cuban went. I knew that sweet boy would get picked up soon, hopefully by a family with a yard for him to run and play. 

The volunteer at the shelter walked us towards where the smaller dogs were. Charlie and I locked eyes from down the hall. The entire shelter was full of barking and yelping, but Charlie was silent. He was terrified, but looked up at us as we approached. We met with him and I cannot put into words how scared he was. He shied away and huddled in the corner, shying away from any touch, and flinching at sound. 

Even though he would barely look at me, I knew in my bones, I was walking out of there with that dog. Because if I didn't, I'm not sure very many people would over look the shy exterior and give him a chance. And for me, that's what adopting a dog is all about: giving a chance to a dog who otherwise may not get one. "What do you think?" I asked Jason. I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. 

You really want him? I could see him ask silently. "It's up to you," he said aloud, but I knew he was going to say that regardless. This was my venture, Jason was just along for the ride. 

How it actually went:

The tension between Jason and I was palpable as I filled out the adoption papers. I knew he had wanted Cuban and I knew he was upset about my choice. I still feel selfish to this day for having picked Charlie over Cuban. But, he is by far the best selfish decision I've ever made. 

I told Jason that Charlie would be a better fit for our apartment life. He was small and could travel with us whenever we went (we spend many weekends in Orlando and go back to Colorado a few times a year). Still, Jason was upset. And I don't blame him.

The first few days with Charlie were overwhelming. The day after adopting him we discovered he had fleas...a lot of them. The shelter claimed to have given him a flea bath and his vaccination, yet there the fleas lived, breathed and eventually spread into our house. Charlie was freshly neutered, so we couldn't give him 'another' flea bath for a week, and his 'next' flea vaccination wasn't for 2 weeks. By the next day Jason and I couldn't talk to each other without biting the other's head off. I was frustrated and so out of my element, and felt like Jason had been right. Not to mention, Charlie was holed up in our bath tub and wanted nothing more than to burrow away and hide. It broke my heart.

It's easy to say, and hard to put into practice, but patience and time is the only thing we could do. And so, every morning at about 6, I woke up and went to check on the bathroom dog. (This was before we were able to get him a crate, which is just another thing to add on the: you're not ready list, so he spent his time in our small bathroom, which is about the size of the kennel he was in at the shelter.)

It took about a week before he would come of his own volition. He wouldn't touch any treats, or any human food....aside from cheese. Cheese is what helped up coax him out of the shell he'd been living in for 2 years.

Eventually he found his way to the couch (which is now his new favorite spot).

Looking at these pictures now, the fear and uncertainty from those first few days/weeks is still so clear on his face. But eventually he became comfortable enough to sleep in my presence.

Let us jump two months ahead (to the present):

While we were house training him, he slept in his crate at night. But now that's he comfortable with us, and has some sense of bladder control, we let him sleep in the bed with us. Or should I say, sleep on my pillow right next to my head.

His size is fortunate, because he likes to climb up and hangout in small spaces.

The last one is just from Monday, when I picked Jason and him up from work. He's gradually getting used to the car and the routine of things. Charlie is so curious about everything, and terrified at the same time. He now loves to be held, cuddled and is always by my side....even in the bathroom. He whines very infrequently and barks even less. He likes the climb, and spends most of his day sleeping like a cat. He doesn't really grasp the concept of fetch, but we'll get there. 

I'm not sure if he picks up on my personality, but if he has he has definitely followed my lead with sass, because this little guy is spunky. Both me and him give Jason the same look when he says something he thinks is funny. 

Oh Charlie, I hope you understand how much I love you already and can't wait to watch you grow and sass Jason even more.