And Now You Are Seven

Harlow is seven years old this week. Her birthday is an estimate. I adopted her through Survivor Tails Animal Rescue. She was abandoned with her brother who was also adopted by someone in the Boston area.

She has always been a challenging dog. In truth, I’m not sure I’m the right human for her, but I’m hers just the same now. As a puppy she was super challenging. She was crated during the day while I was at work, and let out during the day by the dog walker. I would often come home and find her outside the crate even though the walker would secure her inside before leaving her. We joked that her middle name was Houdini.

She would bark through the night until I realized that she just felt lonely in the crate downstairs. Once I put her in a crate in my room, she didn’t make a peep. She didn’t understand pooping outside. She got into everything, and chewed everything.

About two weeks after I got her I visited my parents with her. When I entered the house with her, my parents took one look at me, exhaisted and stressed, and blanched. “I’m just so tired!” I burst into tears.

“Give us the puppy!” my parents said, me handing her over like I was a new parent with a colicky baby. It’s a hysterical scene, thinking back on it.

During this whole pandemic experience, I have been so grateful for her. At first, she wondered why I was always home. Now, on the rare occasion I actually leave, she throws a party upon my return. It’s quite funny.

She did get a birthday bath today. She was tolerant but underwhelmed.