I got Sydney at the beginning of July 2011.  I remember vividly going to the SPCA to meet the dogs and look around.  As I’m sure most animal lovers will probably understand, my first thought was, of course, “CAN I TAKE THEM ALL HOME?!”

Obviously that was impractical, so I started to walk around, letting the desperately barking dogs jump up and sniff my hands, and exchange kisses of greeting through their cage doors.  Looking back, my memory of the other dogs is something of a furry, slobbery blur.  As sweet and kind as I’m sure they all were, only one dog stands out for me, and that is Sydney.

Unlike the other dogs, Sydney was curled up at the back of her cage, rather than jumping at the front, begging for attention.  She seemed nervous, like she wished she could make herself invisible.  She might have accomplished it too, with all the other barking and jumping action going on around me.  For some reason though, she immediately caught my attention.  Maybe it was the sad look in her eyes, or the fact that she looked in such desperate need of a hug, but for whatever reason, I was drawn to her.  After taking her for a short walk around the SPCA property and sitting with her for awhile on the front lawn, I started to realize how truly perfect for me she really was.  Quiet, affectionate, cuddly … That day, I had the first of a million healing 'huggles'.

I say healing because, as damaged as Syd was, a former stray, tortured with anxiety and fears that have yet to fade entirely, I was hurting too.  I had just been released from hospital for the second time in the past year.  I was admitted short-term for acute depression, which I have been struggling with for as long as I can remember.  It varied in form.  Sometimes I was little more than a zombie, lost in a haze of gloom.  Other times I felt like every sound, sight and touch was going to be the last blow in a brutal battle for my own sanity and, honestly, my own life.  Everything hurt.  I was miserable, and no matter how many 'I love you’s' and 'I’m here for you’s' came my way, it all felt meaningless.  It wasn’t, of course, but it was all fraught with human complications that severely impeded my ability to understand and trust in those words.

I’ve always been an animal person, and undoubtedly always will be, but in this case, getting a dog – Sydney – was more than just getting myself a new pet.  I was getting myself a new companion.  Someone who would help me structure my days, lend some silent moral support in times of need, and force me to get some exercise.  When it came down to it, some days Sydney was my only reason to get out of bed.

Understanding the love I got from Sydney was easy.  She showed it unabashedly at every chance she got:  wiggling ‘hello’ when I came home; following me around the house while I did whatever I did; chasing me out the door when I left; cuddling up with me wherever I sat or lay down … And I returned all of this love with as much as I had to give.  At first, what I had to give wasn’t much.  Despite her joy over even the slightest bit of attention, I didn’t feel it was enough.  She deserved even more.  So, rather than give in to the self-loathing that had engulfed me so many times before, I changed.  Like the Grinch, my heart grew in size to make room for all the love Sydney deserves for being the beautiful, selfless, incredible, kind-hearted and loyal creature that she is.  What could very well have been another misguided attempt at self-medicating and self-regulating, ended up being the most important undertaking in personal development and self-growth I’ve ever taken on.  All thanks to that goofy, smiling face that I have waiting for me when I get home every day.

Whenever I start to feel overwhelmed, stressed, frazzled, I take a moment and think of Sydney.  I think of how much she loves, needs and trusts me.  Suddenly, giving up is no longer an option.  I know that I won’t stop now because my failure would hurt her more than I could bear.  My entire life’s purpose now is simply to keep her as happy as I can.  Anything else is just icing on the cake (a cake that she will probably steal off the counter when she thinks no one is looking).

I want to extend my deepest thanks to the SPCA.  You do some brutally hard work – both physically and emotionally – but you keep doing it.  You saved my Sydney and saw something in me that you trusted.  Whatever it was, I’m thankful you saw it.  For all the good this relationship has done me, it has done good for Sydney too.  The dog I met is not the dog I now know.  She’s healthier, happier, more relaxed, more social, and a lot more playful.

Every day, Sydney and I work a little harder on making her less scared – of other people, of other dogs, of the big scary garden gnomes my mother likes to have around.  One by one, her walls are dropping, her scars are fading.  And with hers, so too go mine.

Sun bathes my face.  My fingers tangle in Sydney’s fur.  Birds sing.  Sydney grunts contentedly and leans on my shoulder.  I am happy.

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