Having a Rescue Dog

I got my first dog 2 months after I graduated from college and 1 month before starting grad school. Lolololol
  1. For the first two weeks, I had a very love/hate relationship with Brody.
    This 80 pound animal in my small apartment was like, entirely dependent on me, a stupid 21 year old who majored in Theology and now had to go to grad school because gainful employment was a pipe dream. But also, PUPPY.
  2. But then I drove him 8 hours to spend a week with my family and we truly bonded.
    I could see him starting to trust me. Brody was fostered for over a year before I took him home, and he was returned twice. Homeboy was wary as fuck.
  3. I took him to the vet and she told me he would live for another 10-12 years. 😱
    WAIT LIKE THIS GUY MIGHT MEET MY KIDS? I COULD HAVE KIDS IN 12 YEARS, MA'AM. I AM 21 HOW HAVE I MADE SUCH A PERMANENT COMMITMENT.
  4. But then I rewatched Marley & Me
    Because I hate myself. But also then snuggled Brodes for an hour and made him promise to never die. So far so good.
  5. Sometimes I hate the term "dog mom."
    Excuse you, sir, dis my pet. Did not birth him.
  6. But I get it.
    I have depression, anxiety, PTSD, and am taking 18 credits and work 20 hours a week. Some would say the responsibility of a dog is too much. I'd say the responsibility is what has kept me rooted here through all of it.
  7. No matter what, this guy needs me.
    He needs me to get out of bed, even if I couldn't sleep all night because of new meds. He needs me to get outside and walk him every day.
  8. So damn it, we're that cliche, "Who saved who," type deal.
  9. Also he's super cute and a great cuddler.