Travis--my birthday present

--Travis

--playing with his squeaky toy.

I've been going through one of the hardest periods of my life. Depression, hearbreak, imminent job loss...it's all taken it's toll on me. Of course, all this culminated on my birthday, which was on the 27th. It was easier for me to pretend it was just another day. Another day to survive. At the end of each day, I tell myself, "I made it through another one." And take solace in that. To make matters worse, I got 2, count them, 2, birthday cards making fun of how "old" I was and how that was "scary" and I should "lie". 32 is old? I hadn't really given it a second thought. Oh, my God! I'm old enough to get birthday cards that make fun of my age!

I decided to adopt a dog. I've never had a dog but always wanted one. My ex-husband wouldn't let me. Then, my ex-boyfriend wouldn't let me. When Brent left, I started scouring the shelters. I must have searched 7 different shelters, trying really hard to ignore the strings tugging at my heart. Too old, too small, too big, too young, too hyper, too many behavior problems....I wanted to make sure my first dog was a good fit for me.

Then, I found Travis. A 3-year-old, mid-size (50 lb), black lab mix. He had been picked up as a stray 2 weeks earlier and was lethargic, depressed, and sulking in his doggie bed in the back of the kennel. Emaciated, ravaged by worms and coming down with a cold, needless to say, he wasn't feeling too good. He looked at me with these large, brown eyes from the corner of the kennel. I cooed softly to him. He slowly started thumping his tail. I urged him to come over. Reluctantly he trudged over, head hanging low. I stroked his ears through the bars and he gave me a few soft caresses with his tongue. In the play yard where I could interact with him, he didn't want to play. He peed, wandered around, and then laid down. I was worried. Maybe he was too sick? Maybe too lethargic? I went back to his kennel afterwards. He came over to me right away this time, giving me more licks. I looked into those big, sad brown eyes, and that was it. I had to have him.

I named him Travis. It means to travel, and we're both on a journey together. Specifically, it means "to traverse over a bridge or gateway". Both of us were abandoned and had our hearts broken. Both of us, together, are starting a new life together.

I've only had him a week, and he looks like a different dog. His coat is shiny, and he has put on a little weight. He follows me everywhere. Inside, he lays at my feet. He rides in the backseat of my truck on errands. He never barks or whines. He's housebroken. He heels on the leash like a dream. He listens to my commands: "Sit, stay, down, come, wait, easy." I don't think he knew these commands before. He just wants to please me soooo badly. It's his main goal in life. We've gone running too. Trails, beaches, parks, sidwalks. About 3 miles at a time. We love it.

I don't feel lonely anymore. I have Travis. Who needs a boyfriend?

I have to find a home for Sasha (below). She's been extremely upset since I brought Travis home. He doesn't play nicely with bunnies, and she's confined to a small bedroom and totally freaked. I feel terrible and can't wait to find a better home. The ex was supposed to take her (it was his kid's bunny, afterall) but I guess poor Sasha is collateral damage.