I met Liz February 23, 2015. She was sitting snout up against the the webbed chaining of her cage with her big beagle eyes and her white tail wrapped neatly around her paws. The dog associate at the shelter gave me the run down: abandoned hunting dog who stopped hunting, no family, brought back a few times because she couldn't fit in, she's just looking for someone to love her back. I was 19, and I adopted her three weeks later.
This dog, all 34 pounds of her, has taught me more about life than any college course or SAT prep class. She is 100 percent mine, so therefore, my sole priority. I am fortunate to attend a pet friendly college where Liz, now renamed Madi, can coexist with me in the dorms. The college is still the same, but there is a stark difference between my first and second years. I can't stay out all night partying anymore because I need to come home to let my dog out. I can't spend the night with my boyfriend because someone needs to be there to give her breakfast. I can't eat out because I have to save money for dog food or her monthly flee and tick medications, and forget weekend getaways because I cannot afford boarding. Everyday I need to make sure she is happy and healthy. Every decision has to have her well being in mind.
She's not the easiest thing to care for, no dog is. She has her accidents and she barks and cries sometimes when I leave her alone to go to class. She has an attitude and will sit when she deems it necessary to sit. When I am too preoccupied getting ready in the morning, she slips a few swigs from my coffee mug and bounces off the walls for the next hour or so. She is a 3-year-old hound mix with the attention span of a 5-year-old child. I had to learn to adapt, to bend with along side this new challenge and not snap under the pressure.
She's taught me responsibility, budgeting, patience, but most importantly, she taught me how to love. When I first adopted Madi, I was at a school far from home with no friends. I would sit in my room binge watching Netflix, hating my life and watching everyone else live theirs on the small screen of my cell phone. Now I am never alone. She's there for me and always up to do something. She's there to greet me with a wagging tail when I get back from a rough soccer practice. Instead of an alarm clock, I am awoken by a swarm of good morning kisses. She is a library companion and a conversation piece. She is my shoulder to lean on when I need it and an ear to vent to.
Her life changed forever when I took her out of the shelter, but it was my life that was saved that day. She changed me for the better, and I can't imagine myself without her.
