Tia really had an effect on me. She's had an effect on every person whose life she has touched on her meandering journey to her forever home. She's the reason you get a dog. Harry was too. Meeting either of these two vastly different canines, and no matter what your previous feelings were, all of sudden a little idea sprouts in your brain, "Maybe I need to get a dog."
So I guess I should just accept that Tia worked her charm on me; not about getting any dog, but getting her specifically. The only way I'm going to get over her, and accept where we left at the crossroads, is to keep travelling down my road, and picking up other dogs who need a lift.
Patti was kind enough to oblige me another travelling partner. This time, rather than dropping a dog off at an airport, I had to pick one up. Patti ask that I snap a few photos for Pilot N Paws. Of course. I still contend that any picture is made infinitely better by putting a Cessna in it.
Bill, the pilot who had flown from Riverside, CA to Henderson, NV and back that day said that Harley was a bundle of energy ready to explore. The moment he saw the plane, he hopped right in. "Where to now?" the freckled canine seemed to ask.
And I found out on my way to the truck, Harley felt the same way about grounded vehicles. Hop right in and, "Where to now?"
Harley did settle into the trip, but for a few moments I wondered how he was possibly letting any of this experience settle in. He wanted to be everywhere at once. His nose to the ground, his head whipping around to catch every sound vibration, and his paws in constant motion, moving forward into the adventure without a single hesitation.
At the apartment, he couldn't quite figure out which toy to play with. How about all of them all at the same time?! That seemed the best option open to him. Yet all this while, the poor boy was having an anxiety attack, panting heavily, and was a little dazed in the eyes. He wasn't most comfortable with this new turn of events, but there was no turning back so he leapt forth into the great unknown, anxiety and all.
When Patti arrived after work to pick up Harley, she had with her a tiny little Brit puppy named Quinn, who was the exact opposite of Harley. Patti said when at home, Quinn ran around and played and barked and was the best little girl ever. But in the world outside the safety of Patti's house, she was timid, fearful, trying to meld into the seat. She didn't want to chance getting to know me. She wasn't aggressive or vicious; she was just uninterested in what the world had to offer. I suppose her past experiences proved the world wasn't a very friendly place. She had been abused, neglected, suffered through ailments and diseases, been poked and prodded in an effort to heal her wounds and cure her illnesses. It's no wonder that she really wasn't gung-ho about finding out what else the world had in store for her.
Harley was crated in the backseat to not upset Quinn, and maybe to cage in some of that boundless excitement so Patti could drive safely. Patti is a calm, cool, collective person. I was surprised to find that Brittanys, are in essence, that very opposite energy. I asked what drew her to this breed.
"Because I can train them," she said. "If they're going to be all rambunctious, that's fine as long as I can train them, and Brittanys are really smart."
I watched Patti drive away and I imagined her being the eye of the storm, the center of calm for these excited creatures who wanted to make sure they got to experience every moment in life they could as soon as it was presented to them. And if opportunity didn't arise, these ambitious canines would search it out, nose to the ground, until they found it.
It might be a little anxiety-filled at first, as Harley expressed, but you can't get to know the world until you put yourself in it. There's a big world out there, and so much going on we can't stop just because we're a little afraid. We need to dive in and just say Yes to whatever lay ahead.
I think Harley was an excellent rebound dog for me. It's that sort of fearlessness--or rather motion in spite of the fear--that allows the universe to keep throwing adventures your way. The imaginary Tia in my mind will eventually stop beaming guilt at me every time another canine curls up on the couch with me. But the only way that's going to happen is to keep doing what I'm doing: help as many dogs as I can. Tia wasn't meant to be my dog, I'm convinced of it. But I feel the need to convince her. Since I won't get the chance, the only thing I can do is keep my passenger seat empty and ready for whoever needs it most, one dog at a time.
And of course, let the universe know that I'm open to whatever road lay ahead. Just show me a sign, and I'll say Yes.
If you, or someone you know, is up for letting an ambitious young spaniel with super silky fur lead you through life (he'll make sure it's an adventure!), check out Harley's info:
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