This Wasn't Part of the Plan

On feeling lost, being stuck, and finally finding Simon

I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I do believe in immediately knowing that someone or something is going to be wildly important to you.

Four years ago I was scrolling through Instagram when I came across a photo of a puppy – short, chubby, fluffy – and instantly knew he was supposed to be mine. I had a deep, unexplainable understanding that I could love him if I was given the chance. 

That’s how quickly your life can change. That’s how quickly you can know.

I was 26-years-old. I had a steady job, with a steady boyfriend, and a steady friend group. Everything in my life was just so. Good, but not great. Happy, but not fulfilled. I had everything I wanted, but there was still a big, gaping hole that could only be filled with something greater than myself. A purpose, if you will.

My boyfriend and I started fostering dogs in the fall of 2018. First there was Finn, then Marble, Sonny, and Lilah, and each dog imprinted on my heart in new and expanding ways. Finn gave me laughter, Marble gave me patience, Sonny gave me joy, and Lilah gave me peace. I loved each and every one, always in different ways, and always full-throated. I told them I adored them, I called them my babies, I let them sleep in my bed. I was not shy with my affection. 

But with every dog, I knew they were not my dog. Not until Simon, that is.

After I saw his picture on Instagram, I showed it to my boyfriend. He acknowledged that he was cute, but didn’t have much else to say. I was shocked – how could you look at this perfect creature and not immediately cry? How could your universe not be irrevocably changed? How could you not see the power, the love, that lives beyond this phone screen?

“I guess I’d have to meet him,” he said, reminding me that we always talked about getting a big dog.

It was true, and he was right. I had always wanted a big, lumbering dog who took up half the bed and slept most of the day. Plus, adopting a dog wasn’t part of the current plan – we had just moved in together, and things were not perfect.

Tiny, nearly undetectable cracks had started to form in our relationship. Or maybe they had always been there, but they began to deepen. When you fall in love at 24, being in love is enough to warm every corner of your world, an expansive plain powered by feelings alone.

But then you get older, and grow wiser, and suddenly you want more. You want more than love, and you feel selfish for even asking. You want someone who pushes you, someone who inspires you. Someone who’s capacity would take a lifetime to explore.

I realized that my relationship was an island, and I wanted an entire city.

The cracks were there, but it was more than that. It was also that I had always lived my life based on whether I was ready or not. Growing up, I was painfully good – always the rule follower, always on time, always prepared. I loved to have a plan, and although I had taken some risks in my early 20’s, I had somehow fallen back into safety.

It had been a long time since I made a big decision, regardless of the plan.

Without telling anyone, I messaged the rescue that had posted the photo. I begged them to let me foster this perfect puppy, and they responded by telling me that he was already in a foster home. After some back and forth, they realized how serious I was – they told me that I could coordinate with his current foster and arrange for a time to meet him.

That night, at 9pm on a Tuesday, I found myself on a subway car to Bay Ridge.

His foster mom greeted me at the door and let the puppy out of his crate. He ran around the room with the biggest smile on his face, and I was sold. She was dropping him off for his neuter in the morning, and I told her I’d pick him up from his surgery. I was still operating under the idea that I’d be fostering this dog, but I think even she knew it was something more. She happily handed the responsibility of a three-month-old puppy over to me.

I picked him up the next day in Astoria, a mesh carrier and blanket in tow. He had a cone around his head and the same, dopey smile as the night before. Our Uber driver back to Brooklyn was immediately invested in our story, sticking his fingers gently into the carrier at every red light. The puppy whimpered softly as he came back to reality, happily accepting affection from strangers, and I knew that this felt different from any foster I had before.

I carried him up three flights of stairs and set up a bed in his new crate. I gave him all of the toys I’d gotten him, and fed him his dinner. I sat with him until my boyfriend came home, hope brimming my cup. I loved him so much already.

My boyfriend was supportive but not sold. He didn’t have the same immediate connection that I had, but he sensed a shift. He knew this was different too.

“Are we keeping this dog?” he asked me, half amusement, half unsure.

I looked down at the puppy in my arms and smiled. It was a choice I was making for myself, whether it was smart or not. It certainly wasn’t part of the plan. 

I didn’t know it then, but he was about to change my entire life.

Stay tuned for part 2 next week!