on bringing home Audrey

We were nervous today as we sat in the car at the red light. We didn’t think about the drive to the shelter. We thought about meeting for the first time and then the life together. We found you online, you were surrendered only two days ago. You have sad eyes and a long nose and a perfectly wagging tail. With your ballerina bowlegs and your floppy ears, you are perfect. We didn’t know this as we sat in the car at the red light.

We were scared you had been through trauma that would make you difficult to train. Scared that you hadn’t been treated well before. We were scared you would use the carpet in the apartment as your personal bathroom, as it turns out you have. We were afraid that you wouldn’t be a good fit, and we were afraid of what your existence would do to ours.

There was something so surreal about sitting in the car at that red light. We could have made a dangerous U-turn and gone back to where we had come from, sure that someone else would have adopted you. We didn’t.

Ellie got her baby today: a beagle-basset hound-lab mix, nine months old and not yet housebroken. She has waited so long and hasn’t been disappointed. She fell in love the moment she saw those sad eyes on the screen. She couldn’t wait for that puppy, but still, we hesitated at the light, thinking that even when you’re unfailingly sure of something, it can still be scary and cause you to take a second to stop and think before you continue on your way.