Get a Puppy

Ellen C. Wells

In January of 2014—during the Polar Vortex that hunkered down in the Northeast for weeks—I found and brought a 6-month old puppy back from the beaches of southern-most Costa Rica. Osa, named for the peninsula of her birth, was a scrawny, flea- and tick-bitten beagle/rat terrier mix who survived by eating tiny crabs off the beach and scraps of food she begged from visitors like me. No matter how much generosity she would receive from women on yoga retreats, her future didn’t look like it would extend much more than a year. And despite the ticks and fleas and bites from other dogs, her sweet demeanor really deserved more time than that. Long story short, Osa quickly became accustomed to peeing and pooping in snowbanks and negative-degree temperatures in exchange for scooby snacks.

Here’s the kicker: I grew up disliking dogs. Even though I was raised a farm girl, we never had dogs. We had cats aplenty, both inside and outside the house. Mom didn’t like dogs and some of that rubbed off on me. They were big, scary and could tear your arm off. Plus, my dad had a rule: No raising of animals you couldn’t eat, hence no horses, either (despite my pleading). Oh, the cats? Barn cats worked as rodent killers, and the inside cats ... well, those were Mom’s cats.

You dog owners will know how my life and my view of dogs have changed dramatically. Because she’s a little nugget of a dog and so cute and loving, I’ve come to spoil her a bit. The dog crate didn’t last long. She is a nearly permanent fixture on the couch and sleeps under the covers in my bed, as well. On walks she sneaks chicken bones from between the sidewalk cracks and real treats from other dog owners. And that sweet demeanor means she walks up to strangers wagging her tail, throws herself onto her back and gets lots of belly rubs. She’s such a good dog.

Here’s the big way she’s changed my life, though: I’ve become a member of my neighborhood. After having lived in this neighborhood for 1.5 years, I suddenly had to walk outside every day. I hadn’t veered from the path going from my home to the train station, and now I’m walking down side streets and dead ends. I meet my neighbors. I’ve actually become friends with other dog owners. The neighborhood boys who just hang out in the park? They like dogs, and I’ve gotten a chance to understand their lives a bit better rather than jumping to assumptions about them. I’m also getting involved in my community by advocating for a sanctioned space in the neighborhood where dogs can be off leash and safe. Even though I am a homeowner, I feel like I’ve woven myself into the fabric of the neighborhood now.

Through Osa I’ve seen the goodness in people. Here’s an example: She ran across the street once toward a man and dog she knows and hit a passing car (rather than the car hitting her), rolled underneath (miraculous!) and ran off out of my sight. Kind passersby saw her running away and corralled her for me, thank goodness. What a scare! But as the event unfolded, the concern and empathy of strangers was comforting.

I’ve also seen the bitterness and stubbornness in people. “No dogs in the gardens” of the local community center also means no dogs in the parking area (really?). Also, the city-owned property that just happens to be adjacent to your community garden belongs to the whole neighborhood—it’s not your property alone. I can walk my dog there, thank you very much.

Get a puppy. See your neighborhood differently. Meet people you wouldn’t meet otherwise. It feels pretty darn good. The never-ending love of the furry beast is a big bonus. GP