I have never been a dog person. I am horribly allergic to cats, and on doctor’s orders, my family didn’t get a dog in case I developed an allergy to them as well. So when I got married to my dog-loving, dog-wrestling, and dog-snuggling husband, I had a feeling we’d have to meet in the middle somewhere. That somewhere came in the form of a sweet little black lab puppy named Olive.
We thought for months about adopting breeds of all kinds and were nervous to adopt from a shelter because it was a little unpredictable. This was a dog that we would bring babies home to, that our children would grow up with, and we wanted a dog who we would feel safe having around our future little ones. We ooh-ed and aah-ed over sweet puppies on shelter/rescue websites, and even got in contact with a few different breeders of labradoodles and whoodles, but couldn’t make up our minds if we were ready.
I had all sorts of irrational fears about getting a dog. I was afraid that the dog would somehow go back to its animal instincts and attack me in the middle of the night (I know….absurd. Can you tell I’d never had a pet?). I was afraid it would destroy our house, my clothes, all my favorite things. Perhaps most importantly, I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to love it like I hoped. I was scared I would tolerate having a little creature running around the house, but I wouldn’t experience the connection and love that people describe having with their animals.
Holy moly….I could not have been more wrong.
