Some of my most fond childhood memories are of me riding through the house on Bruiser, our old bloodhound, pretending to be a cowgirl and him my trusty steed. In fact, I have to think long and hard to reveal a time in my life that I didn’t have a dog, or cat, or goat, or some sort of animal by my side. Truth is, I was born into a family of animal lovers and it was my destiny to become one as well. That being said, when I finally moved out on my own, one of the first things I decided to do was adopt a dog.
I was nervous the day that I went to the Humane Society of North Texas; I really wasn’t sure what to expect. I had spent about a week researching several different shelters and had finally found a corgi mix named Amber that I fell in love with. When I arrived, the lady behind the counter let me walk to the back and interact with the dogs one by one and then, I saw her. The little red haired dog I had fallen in love with online. I walked into the cage, reached out my hand and allowed her to examine my scent before petting her. I remember kneeling next to her, being surprised by the softness of her fur and her abundant personality. Then, I remember crying. Not because I was excited about finally getting a dog that was truly mine, but because something just didn’t click. I left the cage feeling distressed that all of my research had turned out to be pointless.
I walked around and looked at every dog twice, I had really hoped to leave with a new friend but I just couldn’t seem to find the right fit. I walked back to the front, thanked the lady at the desk, and began to leave.
“Wait!” I turned around and saw the shelter worker’s eyes had brightened slightly. “Would you want to take on a ‘special’ case?” My heart jumped, I have always been a sucker for an underdog and I knew that if I said yes, I would be leaving the shelter that day with a new pet.
The shelter worker went into a room separate from the others and returned, dragging a terrified black mess of a dog behind her. I sat down on the bench as calm as I could and slowly reached my hand out. I must have sat there for at least fifteen minutes before the little black mutt crept forward and licked my hand. It was then, when she looked up at me, that I could see the desperation in her eyes. I could tell that this little dog had been through a lot in her short life. She was still young, barely a year old, but I knew she had experienced enough in that short year and was ready for a new start.
Three months later I sat on my couch watching TV. The little black dog, who had previously been called Skipper, had a new life with me and a new name, Piper. I saw her peeking around the corner of the bedroom, I clucked at her and she slowly moved towards me. Even after being with me for this long, she still moved about the apartment cautiously, scared that anything she did would cause her to be beat or scolded. I sighed and directed my attention back to the TV. The next day was the same story and then finally, a week later, as if someone had snuck in in the middle of the night and replaced her with a replica, instead of creeping out of the bedroom, she came bounding towards me at full speed, jumped up into my lap and bathed me with kisses. From that moment on, she became known as “Hyper Piper.”
Now that she had gained my trust, I began socializing her and taking to a local dog park. One day I was talking to a man who was inquiring about Piper and where I had adopted her from. As we talked, the man confessed to me that he believed Piper had once belonged to his sister and brother-in-law whom had given her to the shelter about a month before I met her. A week later, he brought his sister and her husband with him to the park where they confirmed this was the case. It didn’t take long for me to realize why it had taken almost 4 months for me to gain her trust.
As we were discussing something completely irrelevant, Piper innocently jumped up on the park bench, an action that is unspokenly accepted at the dog park, and the man who had formerly been her owner grabbed her by her neck and yanked her off. As she hit the ground he raised his hand to beat her but I quickly jumped up to intercept and his hand hit me squarely on the jaw. I scooped Piper up and we both left in a hurry without saying a word to anyone. I cried the whole way home, not because I was hurt physically but because I was heartbroken that I had let her down. She responded to my frustration with a happy tail wag and kisses that reassured me that our bond was not broken.
It’s been 6 years now since Piper first came into my life and now, even though she’s older and now has a brother and sister, she will always have a very special place in my heart. I’m very thankful to the humane society for recognizing my love for animals and pairing me with such an amazing dog. I truly would recommend this shelter to anyone searching for a new furry companion.