When Life Gives You Lemons, Get a Dog

Meet Wallace.

This week I am celebrating our anniversary. Thursday, November 17th officially marks one year together. There is no way to talk about the last year of my life without telling you about this guy and what he has done for me.

It all started when I came across a Reddit post with a user wanting to know what the best thing people have done for themselves since being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis is. Someone replied they got a dog. Of course, they went on to explain all the great and wonderful things that would have them make such a statement, but they already had me convinced at “dog”. This was not a completely new idea to me. I had been wanting a dog for a long time. I dreamed of a hiking partner or a mountain biking buddy running along beside me, but I spent so many hours in the woods I was not sure it was a good idea. What dog would want to go out and spend eight hours hiking in freezing temps or chasing me through the woods in the sweltering heat? Even more so, I did not want to leave a dog home alone while I was out adventuring for an entire day or weekend.

Then came MS and the end of those things. I figured I could get a dog after all. At the time, I could still do short hikes and bike rides. Nothing too strenuous that a canine would not be able to handle. The search began. I knew I did not want a puppy. I did not want the work or commitment of house training and I was worried the energy of a puppy would be too much to handle. Ideally, I was searching for a medium-sized, quiet, and house-trained love bug with the energy to go on four to five-mile weekend hikes. I did not want a small dog but I also did not want anything that looked like it could bite my cat’s head off in one chomp. I also knew I wanted to help an animal in need of a home and I would be adopting.

I spent weeks online looking for a new best friend. He or she was not there. I broadened my search to neighboring states. I scrolled through pic after pic of homeless animals needing someone to take a chance on them. Covid was in full swing and visiting the shelters in person required applications and wait times to step inside. It was strenuous, but I did it anyway. I would make appointments for meet and greets, but there was never a match. I was beginning to think it was a lost cause when I came across a pic of the greatest smile I have ever seen. He was currently with a foster and available to meet. I made an appointment immediately.

The Meet and Greet

I learned his name was Wallace. His age was listed as around three years. The listing said he was quiet, enjoyed sleeping on the couch and he did well with cats. I needed to meet him. On paper, he sounded like the one.

The rescue that had him was HART (Homeless Animal Rescue Team) in Cincinnati, Ohio, less than an hour’s drive north for me. HART does not have a physical shelter. They solely rely on fosters to put a roof over their rescue’s heads. Part of their mission is to rescue animals from euthanasia in high-kill shelters, which is how Wallace came into their care. I was put in touch with his foster, Tori. She messaged me and, just like that, I was going to be meeting him that weekend.

The plan was to meet in a park. My boyfriend, Daniel, drove us. As we were entering the park, I looked across the field where we were supposed to meet and saw this energetic dog dragging a young, petite lady behind him. I looked at Daniel, smiled, and said, “that’s my dog”. We parked and walked across the same field to meet them and get the full story.

Wallace had been picked up as a stray in the mountains of eastern Kentucky and taken to a shelter. It was a high-kill shelter and his time was up. HART rescued him and immediately started some much-needed medical treatment. He was infested with heartworms. He also had Lyme disease. His stool samples were full of parasites. The fact that HART even thought he had a chance amazes me and fills me with awe for how amazing they are. He had been with Tori for months while he was receiving treatment and building strength. Recovering from heartworms is a painful, time-consuming process and he had been on bed rest the entire summer and into the fall. His meeting with me was the first time he had been out of the house for anything more than a potty break in months.

He was wild. Darting around at the end of the leash. His ears were laid back and his eyes were bulging out of his head, a look I have come to know very well. His energy could not be contained. He was nervous and would not make eye contact. He ignored my offer of treats. He was not interested in meeting me.

Tori exclaimed over and over how impressed she was with him. She felt he was doing really well and was receptive to Daniel and me. He eventually calmed down and allowed me to pet him. All in all, it was a decent visit. I told Tori I would need to think about it. I was a little put off by his complete lack of interest in me. However, it was the first time he had really been outside in months. I did not take it too personally. I messaged her the next day to see when I would be able to bring him home.

We met again in the same park. She seemed hesitant. I imagined it was because she was sad about letting him go with someone else. Nevertheless, I signed the papers and she gently lifted him into the backseat of my car. He still had stitches from being recently neutered. The hour drive was spent with him bouncing around the back seat with breaks to stretch his safety belt as far as he could and lay his head on my shoulder and snuggle the side of my neck. Just like that, we fell in love.

Homecoming

At home, I eventually coaxed him into eating his dinner, and then we settled in for the evening. He seemed comfortable and ready to make himself at home. He was full of affection and snuggles. Within an hour I had a tired doggy stretched across my couch with his head on my lap. I was getting to hear his little snores for the first time. We were already peas in a pod.

I had taken the next two days off of work so I would have a long weekend to spend with him and help him get settled. I had also scheduled the delivery of a new mattress. Having no idea how he would react to people coming in the house and really being more fearful of him running out the open door, I closed him in his crate. I was eager to see what would happen. Did I have a playful pup or a protective guard dog? As the delivery guys entered the house, what I actually learned was that I had a problem.

He barked viciously and lunged at the sides of the crate when they walked by. There was nothing to console or calm him. I explained to the delivery guys that he had just been rescued and was nervous about his new surroundings. I also tried to convince myself that was the case. After the delivery men were gone, Wallace was back to his loving self.

The next evening I had the opportunity to introduce him to the handyman in the apartment next door. I had mentioned to Carl weeks earlier I was looking for a dog. I asked if he would like to say hello to Wallace. I brought Wallace next door on a leash. As soon as he walked through the door and saw Carl he lost his mind. The same barking and lunging. I apologized profusely and walked Wallace home. I came back to talk to Carl. He said he felt confident if I had not been holding him, that Wallace would have hurt him and I agreed. The next thought that crossed my mind was that I now had to get back into my own home. I did not know how Wallace would react. This is the first time I had left the house without him. Now I needed to get back inside and he was already worked up. Was he going to attack me? I opened the door to a sweet loving dog with a wagging tail.

I called Daniel to tell him what was going on. He came over and it was the same reaction. Wallace was not happy with him being there and had to be locked away in the bedroom for the entirety of Daniel’s visits. I felt my heart sinking. I still had hope, though. Maybe he was only reacting this way because these people were in his territory. He had met Daniel before in the park and not reacted this way. Maybe he would be fine with meeting people outside of, or not so close to, his new home.

Unfortunately, he continued to have issues. On walks around the neighborhood, we would have to cross the street to avoid people. It was always the same aggressive reaction. He was scary. People were rightfully afraid of him. He was nearly half my weight and I worried I would not be able to restrain him, especially if I was feeling extra weak because of my MS. Everyone I spoke to about him told me it was a bad idea to keep him. They said he was a liability. I understood. I even agreed. But, what no one else saw was the loving, grateful dog I came home to every day. A sweet boy that would never do anything to harm me. A dog who enjoyed nothing more than couch cuddles and being close to me.

HART made it very clear that if it did not work out I could bring Wallace back to them. They would even return the adoption fees. I set dates in my head. If I was not able to help him, then it would not be fair to keep him if there was someone out there who could. I dove into the internet the same way I had when I started researching MS. I needed to fix him. I would not give up on him. As far as I was concerned, I did not have MS anymore; I did not have time for it. This is what my time and energy would go into now.

Getting to Know Him

Hours spent on the internet told me I was possibly dealing with fear aggression. The guttural bark that I was growing to hate so much was a sign. There was also the lunging as if moving in for a quick nip and then backing away just as fast. It also made sense given that he had been isolated for months while recovering from heartworms. My heart sank as I realized how scared he must be every time I take him out or someone comes near him. I signed up for online classes and started work immediately. Everything I read told me there was hope.

I dedicated every spare moment to his training. I would walk him in the morning before work. It was mostly peaceful. Now that I knew his behavior was related to fear, I knew what to look out for. Even in those first few weeks, he would react to shadows moving through car headlights. A shutting door would send him into the fetal position with his tail between his legs. Immediately after work, I would load him in the car and go to an open field near a multi-use trail. We observed people from afar, then slowly, over the weeks, worked our way closer. Surprisingly, the first thing he stopped reacting towards was the bicycles zipping by. I was optimistic as we seemed to be heading in the right direction.

Unfortunately, the training in the park did not seem to translate to other areas of his life. We could pass someone on the trail, but people on the sidewalk in our neighborhood were met with aggression. Daniel was still not able to come inside my home. We tried changing the environment and taking Wallace to his house instead. It was just as bad. I contacted a trainer for professional help.

Wendy gave me hope. She was not able to make friends, but after stepping outside with Wallace and a few trips up and down the street, he was eating out of her hand. I was ecstatic. She guided me on relaxation exercises and techniques to help calm him. It was still weeks before Daniel, Wallace, and I could be in the same room. Even more weeks before Wallace was comfortable with it. It was months before Wallace would allow me to leave the room without turning on Daniel.

Progress, for Him and Me

I was diagnosed with MS in February. Wallace came into my life a few months later. I was still in shambles when I met him. My hope was a dog could help put the pieces back together again. I had no idea what I was in store for. My dog was just as broken as I was.

Physically, he was great for me and still is. Our time meandering around fields together really added up. I was barely getting 8,000 steps most days, but in the last year, I have averaged over 14,000 a day. He demands his daily walks with butt wiggles and playful sneezes. On weekend mornings, he is at my bedside by eight. I have no chance to linger and be sad. He loves being outside together, even if that just means taking laps around the backyard.

His training redirected a lot of my stress. I was no longer focused on everything that was wrong with me and how to fix it. I was now completely focused on fixing him. I know I stumbled with him on walks, but I do not remember it. I was not concerned about myself. I was not angry every time I dragged my toes and lost my balance. I did not have time for that. I had other things to focus on.

I wish I could say it was all ups and no downs, but that was not the case. I cried a lot. Even more than the first few months of MS. I had instantly fallen in love with him and was determined to do everything to keep him. I am not sure if it is because I felt I needed him so badly, or because I felt he needed me. Either way, the longer it took to train him, the more of a mess I became. My emotions were off the charts every time we would have a setback. I would cry myself to sleep almost every night. It was not all about thoughts of letting him go. A lot of it was about how, after months of paralyzing depression, I had decided to be proactive and do something to help myself. I decided to get a dog. It is something hundreds, if not thousands, of people do every day. And even that was not working out for me. It seemed that every step I tried to make forward was a failure. I was on the verge of giving up and my last straw was making it worse.

All of that eventually passed. I got better as he did. After a few months, he was able to start passing people on the sidewalk. We eventually sat down outside a brewery and had drinks, hard cider for me and a bowl of water for him. In no time, he was cuddling with Daniel on the couch, though it took nearly nine months for me to be able to leave them alone in the room together. Around ten months he started to let others get close to him and actually began making friends. I was getting to see other people pet him without him looking as if he was trying to decide if he should flee for his life or kill them. Seeing him recover is the purest happiness I have had since MS.

He has returned the favors I have done for him by greeting me at the door with a wiggling butt and wagging tail. He dances for me when he wants a treat. He lays his paw on me to “pet” me in return for my affection. He sits on the floor in front of me when I am having an anxiety attack and forces loving head butts against my face. I have had issues with anger lately. It is never directed at him. When he sees it, though, he cowers and leaves the room only to immediately reappear around the corner. His head poked around to watch me and make sure everything is okay. Seeing his concern is all it takes to snap me back to myself. I speak a kind word and he comes trotting into my arms.

Since my diagnosis, I have struggled to find anything to be grateful for. I see other people with MS say the disease has opened their eyes to this or that and they now have a better appreciation for other parts of their life. I am happy for anyone who can find any positivity in this, but I have always rolled my eyes at such statements and moved on. Writing this I am realizing that, if not for MS, Wallace would never have come into my life. That is a mixed bag of emotions. I will never say I am grateful to MS for anything, but I am forever grateful to have him.