Slice of Lucy: A Dog's Home

 

The first thing I did this morning was to hustle to the dog boarding place where my pup, Mateo, stayed while I traveled. When a worker brought him to the lobby. whatever I had been saying to the manager was forgotten, and I was immediately on my knees to greet my fur baby properly. God, I love this dog. Of all the great people in my life, Mateo loves me the best. 

All day, Mateo has reacquainted himself methodically and joyfully with the favorite parts of his world. He sniffed appreciatively when we visited the part of our backyard where he can weave between bushes and catch the pepperoni scent wafting over the fence from the neighborhood pizza joint. He happily explored the basement while I worked on laundry and ran up and down the stairs to keep a close eye on me. He let out the most tremendous sigh of relief and gratitude when I finally settled in the living room, and he curled up on the old, rose-patterned, yellow arm chair that he shares with my mom. Exhausted from over-stimulation, Mateo slept away the day with one eye half open, monitoring his family and reveling in his place in the center of the house. When I decided to come upstairs to write and wind down this evening, he ran past me on the stairs and was curled up in his bed with a favorite toy under his muzzle before I entered the room. I know he will sleep well tonight, and I will sleep more deeply because we are home together.

For the first six months of life, Mateo was a street dog in San Juan, Puerto Rico. All of the challenges he presumably faced in that life were intensified in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria. An animal rescue pulled dozens of dogs off the streets and rehomed them in Florida where I lived at the time. Ironically, the day I met Mateo, my young son and I had decided to go to PetSmart to get a gerbil for his first pet. When we walked in the front door, I saw Mateo in a makeshift play area the rescue had set up for an adoption event, and I forgot about the gerbil completely. My son understood with wisdom beyond his years that we would be adopting this crazy-acting puppy instead of a cute rodent, and Mateo became part of our family. We learned over time that Mateo's life on the streets shaped a unique personality: He can open jars without breaking them, he hates the water, and he cannot share his food. Let me be clear, Mateo absolutely can share my food or your food, but no one can share his. Lastly, Mateo knows what home is. Home is where your people are, where your needs are met, where you contribute in real ways, like guarding against the UPS delivery guy's imminent attacks and cuddling with anyone who is feeling sick or sad. Home is where you feel safe and sure enough to let out that sigh of relief and gratitude when you finally get there. Sweet dreams, Mateo.