Winston

Last fall my doctor told me that I needed to get a dog.

Well, that's not exactly how it went. That was the phrasing I used when I approached Eric about adding another animal to our already cramped apartment.

I had been seeing a few mental health professionals trying to get back on my feet and ready to return to work after my miscarriage in the summer. My psychiatrist suggested the usual- getting out of bed, taking a shower and doing my hair every day, keeping a journal, and taking walks. I told him about feeling unsafe walking around my neighborhood after dark, and with my return to work, I would not be home during daylight hours.That's when he asked if I had a dog. He said I might want to think about getting one.

"Dr. Duk says I need a dog."I told Eric as soon as I returned from my appointment.

He was rightfully suspicious that I had taken this recommendation to think about possibly getting a dog and blown it way out of context.

Eric had quite a few logical reasons not to get a dog. We had a tiny apartment, we had two cats that might not respond well to a dog, especially a large one, we had limited time, even more limited money, and we had a dog named Bella who ended up living with Eric's mom because it just made more sense that way.

I had no logical reasons. I just knew I had to have a dog. Plus my doctor said I should so that totally made it a good idea.

A few weeks later I was visiting my mom and we decided to go look at some dogs. Her friend operates an animal rescue and she had been keeping an eye out for the perfect dog for me. When we arrived a group of dogs came up to the car.

There he was, standing patiently in.the back of the group. He had the head torso of a large dog, but was curiously close the ground with tiny legs that bowed out. He looked ridiculous, like somebody just stuck random pieces of a dog together with no rhyme or reason, and called it a day.

I knew instantly that I had to have him.

Later I learned that he was a mix between a shepard and a basset hound and his name was Winston. I showed Eric the pictures I snapped on our visit, and three weeks later, Winston was home.

That was eight months ago, and I can't imagine our little home without  him.