13 years old and still going strong, my beautiful lil' girl had a rough early life. She had been found wandering the streets of Worcester by the dog catcher, and eventually made her way to the Worcester ASPCA.
I had been begging my parents for a dog for about a year, as most kids do, and it was agreed that I could have a dog if I paid the adoption fees and took care of her. So I did the sensible thing and asked Santa if he'd bring me a dog for free. Christmas morning came, and no dog. Instead I found a note explaining that so many dogs were abandoned and brought to shelters after Christmas, that Santa doesn't bring dogs straight to children anymore. Instead, there was a printed voucher good for one dog, signed, Santa Claus.
The next month was a flurry of me hogging our old translucent green iMac and looking up dogs on Petfinder. Many dogs were considered, but we had chickens, ducks, and my turkey at the time, and most dogs that I wanted, wanted to eat our birds. I desperately wanted a big dog, a dog to go on adventures with. My mom wanted a yorkie. My dad wanted a lab. My brothers could care less as long as they didn't have to care for it.
Eventually I stumbled upon a listing for Keara on Petfinder. She was beautiful, with a huge smile and two different color eyes. It also said she hadn't tried to eat any of the cats at the daycare, which I took as a good sign for our birds.
I got on the phone, and they said she'd been adopted that day. The kind woman took my info down incase a similar dog came along. Heartbroken, I returned to the search. The weekend passed and Monday morning, I got a phone call. Keara had been sent back. Dogs who get sent back don't stay long at the shelter, so if I wanted her, come and get her now or never.
By monday evening, I was in Worcester with the most beautiful dog I'd ever seen and an unhappy mother who wanted a "small" dog. Keara had been returned by an old woman who just "couldn't deal" with her. AKA, my dog was strong and precocious. Not the kind of dog for an old lady. Not really the dog for a young girl lacking in arm muscles either.
We got Keara home, but couldn't get her up the stairs. Our house is a raised ranch - the only way in the house is through a flight of stairs, but everytime we went to bring her upstairs, she cowered and cried. My dad spent the first month of my dog's adjustment carrying her up and down the stairs for every potty break. Which was a lot, because at a year and half old, she hadn't been housetrained before. She was also terrified of brooms and big men. We can only sadly wonder at what had happened to her before she came to us.
Now, huskies are pack animals, and we quickly became her pack. I loved her to bits, but she wanted to be top dog on the totem pole. It was clear that Dad was the alpha male, but pup and I had to go through a bit of.... wrangling for her to accept me as her person. If you've even seen the Cuba Gooding Jr movie Sled Dogs, you know what I mean. My arms were covered in bites, scratches, and cuts from our "play-fighting" to establish dominance.
As an emotional young lady, it brought me to tears that I couldn't play with my dog without getting hurt. I had the option of returning her to the pound and getting a better behaved dog. Bleeding, crying, sad - what was I going to do? Training her was just so difficult - she was willful and strong. My parents said they would support me, no matter what I chose.
Looking back, this was a decision that would change my entire outlook on life.
You just don't give up on someone you love. Relationships take work, and you have to open your heart for them to succeed, and yes, someone will hurt you for that, but you have to try.
I kept Keara. Eventually, with a lot of band-aids and patience, she was trained, and I could not find a more faithful companion if I tried. We have had adventures, misadventures, cuddle sessions and fights (she stole a lot of food from the counters in the early days. She got mad at me when I worked at the doggie daycare, and was "cheating" on her with all those other dogs).
I'm blessed to have her, I'm blessed to have made the right decision. 11 and half years on, I love her even more than I did that day at the pound, and boy, do I get the best greetings when I return home to see her!
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