In 2005, my seven-year relationship reached an all-time low, ended–and then he proposed… and later that year, the relationship really ended.  My sister, living with me for seven months, moved out; I bought a condo, my first owned home; and I had ended up in the ER earlier in the year as a result of a complication with endometriosis and was thankful my sister was with me.

But in the midst of such huge life events and transitions, the bright spot would enter my life and change everything.  On July 10, 2005, I adopted Harley.  He wasn’t named Harley when I first met him, but I knew that I wanted a male dog and that I would honor my Harley Davidson father with such a name.

In 2004, I seriously began looking for a dog to adopt.  I knew I wanted to check with dog rescues, knew I wanted a bigger dog and registered with four rescues.  My sister will attest to my near-obsession with awww-ing and sighing over various dog pictures and descriptions on-line.  She even joined me a for a few trips to the Humane Society to “look” at dogs.  I admit: This process was torturous.  But I knew the right dog and the right time would happen… eventually.  Meanwhile, pictures of “the one” (dog) donned my fridge, only to be taken down when I learned they were adopted, almost always.  Then, about 9:30 p.m. on a Saturday night (July 9, 2005), Mary of the Golden Retriever Rescue of the Rockies (GRRR) called and said she had a golden retriever puppy–about seven and a half months–who seemed like a good fit for me and who needed a home now.  He had been neglected and abused and was previously owned by a breeder who decided she just didn’t want to breed anymore–and put the remaining dogs in a kennel outside in the backyard.  I mulled it over, surprised at the late call and in the throes of anticipating my move in two weeks; the timing seemed less than ideal.  I expressed some hesitation, given the timing and the fact that I wasn’t supposed to have a dog in my then apartment that was more than 50 pounds full-grown.  I even kinda said no but that I would think about it and call her in the morning–I was moving in two weeks and wouldn’t be in my apartment much longer.

Within about a half-hour, I was upset and realized I may have made a mistake.  I panicked but didn’t want to be rude and call too late, so I e-mailed Mary promptly and planned to call in the morning.  A kind neighbor joined me for my 40-minute drive to “look” at the dog.  Long story short, I left that day with Harley and needed to buy all of the essentials on the way home.  GRRR sends adoptees home with a kind care package, including toys, tennis balls, a leash and a collar.  When I was asked by a volunteer what I wanted to name my dog, her face lit up, and she beckoned me to see the drawer full of black collars–especially the Harley Davidson collar near the top that had “just been donated a few days ago.”  Wow.

Fast-forward from a fearful dog who didn’t know how to eat out of a bowl, wouldn’t walk through doorways because of something that must have happened (yes, I carried my 65-pound dog through doorways a few times), wouldn’t wag his tail for a couple of weeks and would cower with the approach of any human or dog… to a happy, well-loved, well-exercised, fun, mellow, sometimes very playful, sweet dog.  People often ask if I was specifically looking for a golden retriever, and even though I grew up with one and love the breed, I was open.  My answer is often “They (GRRR) called first, and Harley sincerely chose me.”

It’s hard to put words to the impact Harley has had on my life.  We’re bonded, and he is a daily reminder to laugh, let the little stresses go, enjoy the simple beauties (he actually does stop and smell the flowers at times), play, exercise and love unconditionally.  Some friends have teased me, saying Harley is my “furry boyfriend,” but he really has been the assurance that I am not alone, joining me on countless road trips and getaways and always being there.  It’s easy to forget and discount the many nights I’ve been up with him when he’s been ill, standing outside in the wee hours sometimes several times in a night.  I laugh now to see the small, pink, faded spot on my bedroom wall, reminding me of the time I attempted to give him some Pepto Bismol because I’d read that it could give him some relief (we’d been outside that night at least four times); after giving him a small dose with a turkey baster because I didn’t have a smaller dropper and, thinking he’d swallowed, I stopped holding his mouth closed and watched in horror as he shook his head (it’s all in slow motion as I imagine it now) and pink liquid flew everywhere.  All over the bedspread, the walls, furniture.  But there were also the times when I was ill or recovering from surgery–and he wouldn’t leave my side.

Animals often just know, and Harley seems to also be a healer type.  My reiki clients have commented how he actually assists the session, and it seems that Harley is a part of the experience.  He mostly sleeps, but I find him watching me, watching my client, lying under my client’s head if he knows the client hasn’t completely let go of a busy mind (client is on massage table; Harley is on the floor) or lying under my clients’ feet if they need extra grounding.  And when I’ve brought him to my office for student conferences, or even to class a few times, my students are calmer, in a better mood and even more themselves.  Several months ago, when Harley and I were out walking in the neighborhood and passed a woman, I said “hello,” and Harley (in rare form) did a little gallup and looked up at this woman; then, he just stopped.  Both the woman and I laughed, and I commented, “Wow, this is new.  He wants to say hello to you.”  It was then I recognized her; I’d always seen her walking her dog around the neighborhood.  She confirmed my recognition when she noted she’d just lost her dog a week ago and was having a very difficult time and got teary.  At this point, Harley was actually leaning into her leg, as if he knew, and she was petting him and remarked, “Gosh, he just knows, doesn’t he?”  We hugged, and she walked on, and I had promised I’d light an intention candle for her.  And I said aloud, as we walked away, “Thank you, Harley.”

Harley loves kids and sometimes thinks he is one (ask my neighbor who has seen Harley run with her kids to the playground); he loves to just sit on the patio while I work in the garden, work or weed/sweep; he’s a camping and hiking dog; he travels impressively well.  Most of all, though, and I just can’t do him justice in one blog entry, he’s been a constant, loving companion whom I appreciate every day.  If this entry has seemed cheesy or difficult to understand for you, no worries; it’s a tough but sweet bond to explain, and I know some of you know what I mean.  Harley is still imperfect, mind you; he’s still a dog.  But, somehow, too, he’s so much more.  When I’ve visited Taos, New Mexico, many of the locals, even several in the same day, there noticed his eyes and demeanor and have often said, “He has such an old soul.”  Yes, he does.

Harley and I commemorated the five-year adoption anniversary yesterday with a hike.  An extra hug to those of you who have lost your own four-legged companions… and a reminder to us all of the greatest lesson our animals teach us: Enjoy every day and cherish time with our loved ones as much as we can; life is short.