Then
The other night i dreamt i was all by myself in a dark space in a new place, and i was whining for someone to help me.  In my dream i could not hear the soothing sound of Molly’s snores or feel the gentle rhythm of Sheeva’s purrs, and i could not see any comfortable figures sleeping nearby. Sadly, i was slumbering solo, a solitary fur ball surrounded by looming shadows created by what…i did not know, but each with the definite intention of harming my fragile puppy body. Â
Dogs don’t sweat, but if we did, i would have awoken from my dream in a horrible pool of my own fear…drenched in my own despair…bathed in my own unease. Instead, with no salvation in sight, i shivered and shook and yelped and cried, hoping to be discovered and rescued from what i was sure would be an untimely demise.
This wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare!
It wasn’t a nightmare, it was a flashback!
On the first night in my new home, i lay down to rest in a big kennel in a big room with a big void in my tiny puppy heart.
See, when i was a wee little pup, mom and dad had the crazy notion i should sleep all alone in my kennel at night while they slumbered peacefully far down the hallway. Â They imagined i should nod off in isolation while they retired in their spacious queen-sized bed warmed by Molly. They believed i should hit the hay helplessly while they relaxed and were made cozy by Sheeva. And i should be ok with that?
Yeah, no.
In my dream i whined for help. Â In reality, i howled at the top of my ever-loving puppy lungs. Loudly. Incessantly. Without reserve. Â I needed help…i needed a hand…i needed some paws.
For two weeks after they brought me home, mom and dad took turns each night coming out and curling up next to my kennel so i would fall asleep. They threw down a camping pad, grabbed a pillow, and covered up with a blanket so i would know i wasn’t alone. Eventually, i worked my way out of the kennel and onto their pad and inevitably drifted off to a safe night’s snoozing.
After two more weeks of uncomfortable human floor-dwelling, mom and dad set up a place for me down the hallway, next to their spacious queen-sized bed, warmed by Molly, and made cozy by Sheeva. Â
Because i asked for help.
Sometimes new can be scary, and we might feel as if we are on our own. Â Moving to a new town. Hanging out at a new dog park. Starting a new school. Â Beginning a new job. Going away to college. Getting married. Getting divorced. Â Signing up at a new gym. Jumping off a new ledge. Even the third round of dog-obedience classes…can all be scary!
What if i don’t look right? What if my leash is out of date? What if i get lost, or fall down, or trip over my own four feet? What if the teacher makes me sit in the center of the arena because i can’t stay focused!!!!??? Will the other dogs point and laugh?!?
Maybe i won’t like the treats at this new place. Maybe my bark will be wrong or sound funny. Maybe my giant puppy body will stand out in a world of miniature poodles.
Maybe i will get hurt. Maybe this…whatever this is…isn’t the right choice for me! Maybe i’m crazy and i should just stay here…wherever here is…and be happy and safe and carefree forever.
Maybe i sound like you? And maybe you’re ok with that?
Yeah, no.
Howl at the top of your lungs. Â Howl loudly, incessantly, and without reserve. Â Ask for help…ask for a hand…reach out for a paw.
The world is a big scary place, and it is hard to make it alone. So don’t.
Trust me… or come find me for proof. Â I sleep in the middle of the spacious queen-sized bed down the hallway…warmed by Molly…made cozy by Sheeva…and completed by me.
i’m a dog, i love life, and i have flaws. i’m perfect. imperfect. Just. Like. You.