Lately, this idea that we are built and made for community is something that's been hammered home again and again. Funny enough, it's even been a proven God-send and necessity in having and raising a puppy.
Growing up, my family never really had pets. (To be completely honest, we had a dog when I was really little; he stayed outside all the time and then went to our aunt and uncle's when we moved closer to town, so I don't really count him. Sorry, Stormy.) My parents were pretty adamant about not needing/having a pet. "We dogsit, girls; that's how we 'have' pets," was the common phrase used whenever the pleas and petitions began again. All this to say, while having a dog was something I've always looked forward to, it's also something with which I was fairly unfamiliar. This became glaringly obvious to me during the first 48 hours of having Theo. Within the first few hours of bringing him home, he started making these funny noises and his body would convulse ever so slightly. I thought he was going to get sick, so I carried him over to the linoleum (if I'm cleaning up puke, it's going to be off the easiest flooring in the apartment) and waited for whatever was going to happen, concerend for this little animal I had just begun to call my own. I remember he looked up at me with this confused expression, and I'm sure my face mirrored his. As his little convulsions continued, a small lightbulb came on in my head. Wait a minute. Do dogs get hiccups, too? Is that what this is? I'm sure I vocalized this question, as if he could answer me, but started to feel a little less anxious when nothing else happened. A few minutes later, the mini-convulsions stopped, and it was on to the next discovery. Later, at 6 am the next morning, Theo started whining in his crate. So, half asleep, we trudged out into the snow, where he was successful on both accounts (trying not to overshare here too much, guys). I praised him like you're supposed to and then hurried us back into the apartment, ready to get back to bed. After I undid his leash, I turned to lock the door, and in that 10 seconds, he went into the living room and was successful again (on both accounts, AGAIN) right after we came inside. I just stood there and looked at him, ticked that I had to clean all that up at this hour and mad at myself for being in such a hurry to get back inside that I didn't give him enough time to get everything out outside instead of inside. (Insert here life lesson about being in too much of a hurry, you know the drill.)
Later that day, during more pleasant hours, I was with some of these wonderful people I get to call my community. I brought Theo up after church, and I shared with them some of my stories. Three friends in particular currently have dogs and have gone through the process of raising a puppy. Not only were they empathetic to my experiences, but they also offered sound advice and words of wisdom and encouragement. (In case you're still wondering, dogs do in fact get hiccups; Theo still does almost daily, and like most things puppies do, it's pretty freaking adorable.) Now, almost a month later, I have benefitted so much from having these people, and others who are equally as knowledgeable, in my life. Not only are they just great people and a blessing to have around, but knowing that I have a few people to turn to makes this process a bit less trying than it has the potential to be.
I could continue, but it's getting late, and having a schedule for little monster is just as important as it is for me (another sound piece of shared advice), so I'll wrap this up. My hope and prayer for you all is that you are finding or will find a way to let your community in and be a blessing in your life like it's been in mine. I promise it's worth it.
