The Carolina Dog, the Hound Dog, and Me

Sometimes I look at my dogs and think about how differently they came into my life.

Daisy came first. We think she was around three years old when I adopted her. Truthfully, I do not know exactly how old she is, but now she is probably around ten. She is a Carolina dog through and through. Fiercely loyal. The most serious dog I have ever met. Before me, she had bounced through shelters and foster homes until she finally landed with the sweetest foster family.

The moment I saw her, we locked eyes, and somehow both knew we belonged to each other.

That dog is completely pair-bonded to me. I am her person. More accurately, I am her property, and honestly, I would not have it any other way. She is my shadow. If I stand up, she stands up. If I walk into another room, she follows behind me like it is her full-time job to supervise my every movement.

Then there is Millie.

Millie came into my life through one of the saddest stories imaginable. A woman in Corsicana, Texas had an unfixed dog that ended up having puppies beneath a shed. One night, right before one of those rare brutal Texas freezes, a neighbor saw the woman put the puppies into a cardboard box, tape it shut, and leave it on the curb for trash pickup the next morning.

Those babies were literally left there to freeze to death overnight.

The neighbor called the police, a rescue group stepped in, and within 24 hours I had one tiny puppy named Millie as a foster.

That fostering arrangement lasted approximately five minutes.

She was the most epic foster fail of all time because there was never any chance I was letting her go. Millie is a Black Mouth Cur. Hound dog through and through. She is silly and goofy to the bone. She has never had a bad day in her life...at least not since she came to live with me.

Now these two dogs live outrageously spoiled lives. They have beds they barely use because they prefer mine. They have treats, toys, routines, opinions, and entirely too much influence over the schedule of this household. They are loved beyond reason and fully aware of it.

People always say I saved them, but the truth is, they saved me too.

In some of the hardest seasons of my life, they stayed close. They sat beside me in grief, followed me through lonely rooms, made me laugh when I did not feel like laughing, and reminded me every single day that love still exists in the quiet, ordinary moments.

Turns out the best therapists have four legs and absolutely no concept of personal space!