Ryker

I cried a little when Ryker came home. I was so excited and thankful and relieved that it was the beginning of a new chapter in my life; one of healing.

His playfulness has gotten me through many funks. Depression filled days, but we can call them funks.

He naturally knows to crawl up next to me when I’m upset, even if I’ve regretfully taken it out on him minutes before.

And he keeps me feeling like no matter what I will never be alone again. He taught me to trust and gave me something to fight for and believe in. I think that’s why he’s so well behaved. He had to turn out to be a good dog. I had to be good at something. I needed affirmation that I wasn’t worthless. He was the first one to show me that. He was the first one I would let in to show me anything.

Turns out, I guess he could have hurt me if he was a bad dog, which he’s not. And not like bad training, just an all around people-hating dog. But then I suppose if that were the case he never would have left the shelter. Let me plug for a moment adopting and asking about ways to retrain behavioral issues- it can be done, I’ve seen it, so do it! Part of getting Ryker was becoming responsible for someone other than myself. I already felt that I’d failed myself, so just adopting him was a big step, come to think about it. I could have failed him, which would have made my depression worse. But I didn’t. And he’s become one of the top sources of happiness in my life.

He’s shown me how strong I am, and given me the courage to get my feet wet in the outside world a little bit. I suppose you don’t have much of a choice when you have to let him shit and don’t have a back yard, but I digress.

To further understand Ryker’s adoption story, read this blog entry.

An Adoption Story

It’s my first day back to my normal life since my mini vacation this weekend. SO MUCH happened, and I’ll admit, I was a stressed out mess a couple of times. Does that still count as a vacation? Anyway, I am super worn out, and I see candy crush every time I close my eyes. It’s ridiculous.

Back to this weekend, though. With two interviews, an evaluation, getting approved for an apartment, trying to take a tour of my soon to be school (and failing), a wonderful date night, and showing my boyfriend where I grew up, there wasn’t a whole lot of time for sleeping. BUT I’m starting to feel less stressed (and depressed) about the move. Huzzah! What am I, a nerd?

Dressed up for date night! My mind was blown when the theater seats reclined!

My soon to be roommate got to see what it is like living with Ryker. A pair of gym shorts and two bags all ripped and three days later, I think it’s going to be a beautiful match. Actually, I just think he’s still not ready to be left out of the crate yet. Same difference.

One pooped pup on a four hour drive.

Okay, why I’m really posting today is because over the weekend this blog has gotten super popular, which I’m really touched and happy about. It’s basically all because Morgan of Temporary Home, Permanent Love made a post about Ryker and I, and how she and I met. I am super thankful to this girl, not just for the post, but also for all of her help and support with Ryker. I also wanted to share my side of the story and how we met. It’s a pretty magical and fantabulous neat story.

The time was December in the year of two thousand, twelve. The place was Tallanasty Tallahassee, Florida.

*Insert harps playing in the background here*

I had just found this dog. Okay, let’s back up a little more. I had been looking for the dog of my dreams for about a month, and already depressed from the rape, was wanting (but not ready) to give up. One Saturday, I drove an hour and a half to a shelter to see a dog, loved him, and just as I started talking paperwork the owner called to claim him. Hello heartbreak, fuck you, go away. The next day, my mom kept telling me to go to Wakulla County Animal Control/ Cauzican Rescue, and I pretty much figured it was a ploy to get my mopey self out to see her. She sent me the link to Ryker and I didn’t even open it. But, after telling me to come by about four or five times, I finally caved.

CHAT is another animal rescue next door to WCAC, and Lily is my mom’s dachshund.

Ryker (then Frankie) was out in a yard with another dog, running around and playing. We went in to look at him once and I wasn’t sold, so I walked around the kennels, wasn’t feeling it, and went back to the yard because my mom was playing with the other dog in there. I tried playing with him, and after maybe ten minutes I was in love. He just has so much personality! Maybe 20 minutes after that, I was sitting in the middle of the yard boo-hooing because I was relieved and sad and happy and kind of like WTF all at the same time. PTSD/Depression mood swings, anyone? I signed the adoption papers that day, and even came back the next week (I was waiting for adoption approval and trying to finalize a pet friendly apartment so that I could take him home) to let Ryker meet his new friends, Bella and Leo, who I knew he’d be spending a lot of time with.

(L to R) Bella, Ryker, and Leo

I had fallen in love with an awesome apartment across from FSU, and was really excited to call the landlord and double check that I was good to go living there with Ryker. She said no. Neither Dalmatians nor American Bulldogs were allowed. Pissed off but in a bit of an adrenaline rush from being so ready to start my new, much better life with my new “man”, I started calling people to see where I should live. My friend, Karen, mentioned a place that would take American Bulldogs right by FSU, and I called them immediately. The girl was very nice and told me that they had studio apartments as their cheapest apartments, and that they allow American Bulldogs. I left work early to see it that day.

The girl was Morgan. She showed me the apartment and I gushed about Ryker, and she eventually asked where I was getting him from. I told her Wakulla, and she said something along the lines of ,”I just saw your application to adopt him!” She was a volunteer for them and just so happened to be my leasing agent? Woah. At the end of the tour, I told her my story and signed the lease. I was able to move in with him within weeks. Totally meant to be.

The day I met Ryker

Since then, Morgan has been there for Ryker and I many times, from pack walks to telling me which dog brushes are best, to walking him when I got my wisdom teeth out. Without people like her, without shelter volunteers, without animal lovers, I would be more of a mental case right now. I’m eternally grateful for all of the help that I got with getting Ryker, and after losing my faith in the universe, God, whatever (jury’s still out on that one), I at least found respect for some of humanity and the way that things happen. That was an amazing lesson.