Moments of quiet reflection have their purpose and traveling around the world provides some unique opportunities to do that. The other half of that coin though, is sharing in the adventure with someone close or loved. Taking in a beautiful sunset off the California coast or shot-gunning a Bud Heavy the moment you cross the border to Portugal just doesn’t quite hit the same by yourself. After all, what good is an adventure if you don’t have someone to share it with? Even if that someone happens to have four legs and a tail.
Special K is the first thing I see every morning. Waking up to find her sprawled upside down on the couch has become a new ritual. Then, inevitably, she ends up stealing my spot on the bed and proves her status of Queen Bee around these parts. We start our day in a rush and by the time I get going she’s sad to see me go but knows I’ll be back as soon as I can.
Things haven’t always been this way.
In the beginning sure she was cute and everything but as any owner might tell you; German Shepherd puppies are velociraptors incarnate. It was more than that, though. She had a difficult time adjusting away from her litter as a new pup. She was also constantly subject to repeated periods of being kenneled for hours on end. She developed eating disorders and severe anxiety. By the time I got around to her, she has been soiling herself in her cage and eating what remained. Playing in it like the world’s most disgusting snow pile. Chewing at her kennel bars until her gums bled and crying in that heart-wrenching way that only puppies seem able to pull off.
Intestinal parasites.
Fluoxetine.
I remember trying my best to set her up for success in the beginning. Early in the morning we would head out for a walk. Then there was just enough time to feed her before heading to work. Commute back during lunch to find a mess in her kennel. No, I found a disaster. Up the stairs for a quick bath. Down the stairs to disinfectant and clean. Then I would head back into work. Return home. Disaster. Bath. Disinfect. Sleep. Wake. Walk. Feed. Work. Disaster… On and on. Sometimes I feel like the most chaotic parts of your life can rush by you when you’re just trying to survive day to day. Nevertheless, it always surprises me to look back on this time and realize it was five months of my life.
We suffered together and I just didn’t know what to do.
This was also back when I was gearing up for another deployment and I was staring down the barrel of a long seven months of expensive boarding. Everyone around me was telling me the same thing; give her up. She is just as unhappy as you are. End her suffering and give her to a family that can actually take care of her. You have too much going on.
Your father died.
You’re going through a divorce.
You’re losing the house.
Just give her up.
It’s easier this way.
She’ll be happier.
I’m not mad at anyone that told me these things. Far from it. They were being the kind of friends and family you only make once in a lifetime and they were watching me spiral out of control. Hell, I felt like I was living in a reality that wasn’t even my own anymore. So, in my weakness I reached out to someone. A friend of a friend of a friend.
Let’s call him KC. Without him, Special K wouldn’t still be with me right now.
I remember walking up to his house and around the corner. There I was, with this (now) adolescent puppy full of energy and a laundry list of problems to KC’s place. He had mentioned through the grapevine that his fully grown German Shepherd had just passed away after living a full life and he was looking to fill the void with a new little girl, if I was ready to let her go. I explained all of her issues and what she had gone through. I explained how I had bought books, watched videos and taken her to professionals but nothing had worked. Hell, I had about ten dollars to my name when I tried to attend a Schutzhund course which showed some promise. Here’s the kicker though, I couldn’t afford the gas to drive an hour out of town every other day and back to train her. I only had a few months before I was due to deploy and I just wanted her to be happy. My eyes met hers as she looked up at me, tongue out and was oblivious to the fact that her Dad was about to drop her off at the doorstop of a stranger.
And I cried my fucking eyes out.
I hadn’t viscerally sobbed like that since I had found out my father died. It was like she was the last tether to feeling like I hadn’t lost absolutely everything. Between rock bottom and myself was this little dog who’s only bad quality was ending up with an owner that couldn’t handle it and wanted to give up.
KC was there watching this unfold, visibly uneased at this grown man unraveling in front of him. Then he did something unexpected.
He said he would fix everything and not to worry about it.
I remember looking at him, eyes still unfocused from tears and didn’t really understand what exactly he was saying. Essentially, KC explained that he would take Special K in for me while I was deployed. He would train her up just like he did with his previous pup and when I returned in a better place, I could pick her up whenever the dust had all settled. The cost of doing all this?
“Just pay for her food and the rest will buff out”.
I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you, KC and whenever I look at Special K I thank you. Your generosity and kindness is the type that you don’t find anywhere else. I can never repay you and this is just a small way of yelling out into the world to pass on that kind of love to your fellow man.
After deployment, Special K and I reunited and have been inseparable since. She no longer soils herself or has eating disorders and I have a little more than ten dollars in the bank. She can be left at the apartment for a full work shift without incident (as long as ample time is spent telling her she’s the most beautiful thing in the world). She still has a few wires crossed from back in the early days and enjoys barking at dogs five times smaller than her but hey, no one’s perfect.
She has accompanied me on trail after trail. She watches sunsets with me on the beach and her favorite thing in the world is playing keep away with her favorite rubber ball. She has seen both coasts of the United States, climbed snow covered mountains, snuck into five star hotel rooms and regularly fights off demonic neighborhood cats. She comes with me to most dinners and travels in the back of the Jeep with an eager energy to go absolutely anywhere. Most importantly though, she remains my tether, lifeline and best friend through anything that life throws our way. To understand her story is to understand my own. It’s to look at the two of us sharing a plate of French fries, watching the world pass by with one thing perfectly clear:
We wander together.
Meals & Monarch 