"Happiness is a warm puppy." Charles Schulz
For as long as I can remember, I always dreamed of having a golden retriever. From old photographs and my parents' recollection, I know that when I was a toddler in their first house, their nextdoor neighbors had a golden retriever named Champ, who I shared water from a hose with according to old photographs.
Maybe that's where this dream of my first began?
I know I always hoped that my parents would suprise me with a golden puppy or that Santa would gift one in a box with a bow on top. When I got older, I acually remember being highly disappointed on many Christmas mornings, especially after my parents announed that there was one last present and it turned out to be new bikes or fus ball table (for my brother). No matter how special and generous of a gift it was, my heart was always broken because it was never the puppy I hoped for.
I'll share that my parents never gave me any indication that a puppy was being brought into our family, and if anything, my mom was always very honest in saying that she was allergic to dogs and also not interested in caring for another living creature, even when my brother and I likely promised to do all of the work. We also never had pets in our family- unless you count a few goldfish that never survived more than a few weeks, the sea monkeys and tadpoles that we got at the mall, or the wild bunnies in the flowerbed who we nursed back to health until they were strong enough to be released back into our yard.
So I think it's safe to say that I never really had a pet before, but remained hopeful that one would come.
When we lived with my husband's parents in the latter part of 2019 through the first few months of 2020, I had my first live-in dog, which was best described as a relative or a roommate than one of my own as she was an older dog who had actually known my husband longer than I had. While that time was difficult for all of us in the household, especially my in-laws who now saw their son's struggles before their own eyes, we also saw how comforted he was by their dog. who reciprocated his embraces and regularly curled at his feet for a nap. After watching him be soothed by her during his noticeable struggles, I knew how therapeutic a dog could be for someone suffering with chronic health issues and found myself grateful for the comfort and affection that she was able to provide for him.
After finally being granted my husband's disability insurance benefits through an attorney-led appeal, as well as the generous financial support from our friends and community through a Go Fund Me page that helped with the accumulated debt from our years-long medical bills during the diagnosis chase, we were able to rent a house near my in-laws, the same community that my husband grew up in. I’ll admit that I was extremely reluctant following the FTD diagnosis, but after many prayers and talks with my therapist and inner support system, I signed the lease believing that it was the best for all of us.
On March 1, 2020, the day that the lease on our new rental home began, our soon-to-be puppy was born. On that day, we had absolutely no idea that we would be welcoming a dog into our home, let alone how much our lives would change over the next two months let alone the next two years.
To be honest, despite my lifelong desire to have a puppy, my true motivation was seeing my husband comforted by his parents' dog. and believing that it was something that he needed while we faced the many unknowns of this next chapter of our lives.
With the onset of the pandemic and our homebased lifestyles, we were soon one of many who looked to welcome a dog into their family. I'll admit that I initially searched the websites of Chicagoland shelters and other local sites, but somehow found myself connecting wtih a nearby breeder who had just welcomed a litter that included the golden retriever of my dreams. Call it fate, serendipity or pure chance, but I really do feel that this new member of our family was really want we all needed as we faced both a global pandemic and progressive neurological disease.
Before we got to meet the litter and hold our puppy for the first time, we decided to let our daughter choose the gender. Her response was a girl (of course), followed by her decision to name the puppy, "Taylor, after Taylor Swift". Despite my husband's continued pleas for a Bud or Hank, it really was the perfect name for our dog, as anyone who really knows our family's bond over Taylor Swift's music and my daughter's pure idolization of her role model.
After a few weeks of looking at pictures and videos of the young litter, we ventured to meet our girl. As luck would have it, my then 3 1/2 year old daughter fell asleep during the car ride and was anything but excited when we woke her up to see the puppies. Even two years later, I really can flashback to the moment of walking down the steps as she whiningly clung to me, and remembering my eyes filling with tears as I witness their golden beauty and felt the my lifelong visions coming true.
My husband tells the story of much better, as my recollection is heavily distracted by my daughter's clinginess. He says, "There were a few puppies biting at the bottom of my jeans, but then I looked over and say K holding Emma in one arm and puppy in the other." While his perspective helped us decide on the "one with the orange collar", we now agree that Taylor ultimately chose us.
While the name Taylor was already decided, it was during the car ride when my husband decided that she should also have a middle name. I may be wrong, but I really do think that the first suggestion that he made was "Taylor Mae", emphasizing that the middle name was spelled M-A-E, that it "sounded country" and was in honor of our daughter's birth month of May. Really, the name was perfect and very meaningful for us, similiar to how we came up with our daughter's name.
This week we celebrated Taylor Mae's second birthday, with the date also marking two years of so much more for our family as well as the rest of the world. For us though, it's truly both a celebration but also a reminder that it's been two years together as a family of four. As you can imagine, these past two years have had many daily challenges (as many of our close friends and family are more aware of than I may share more pubicly), but we really have had a lot of good times too. A lot of our smiles and laughs are because of our daughters, the human and the dog. They really are our angels, providing us with the strength to keep going and fighting for our family.
Many people (including me) thought it was crazy to bring a puppy into our home, as it added another body for me to care for alongside my husband and young daughter. Yes, I will admit that it has brought on additional stress at times, but she has given our family much more love and support than I could ever put into words.
I really do feel that she was meant to be my/our dog, brought into our family at the most perfect time because this is when we all needed her the most.
Not only did she make my dreams of having a golden retriever and my daughter's wish to have baby sister come true, but she really is the perfect comfort companion to my husband, which at this time is what matters the most.
Happy 2nd Birthday, my sweet Taylor Mae. Thank you for choosing us and helping us through this crazy journey.