I didn’t want a dog or a pet of any kind. The hair, y’all. And I was drowning in the responsibility of three kids. If I had to feed another thing and take it for its shots, I might die. Or that’s what I thought.
Then, I met the man who would become my husband. And he had two fur children he simply adored. I decided that if the dogs were a part of the package, I’d learn to deal with them.
The first time I met them, Odin, the German Shepherd, jumped up on me and put his paws on my shoulders. By the end of the night, he’d abandoned the man who would become my husband and was guarding me at every room I went into.
I still didn’t like him though, or his sister Ushi. But little by little, he won me over. He learned not to lick my face or be loud near me. And he didn’t jump on me, he just laid on his side, inviting me to snuggle him if I’d like. Y’all, he’s the wiliest dog I’ve ever met.
In a few short months, we went from me being terribly uncertain about the furry creatures to me snuggling them when they demanded it. And Odin reassures me by offering certain death to everyone making sudden moves at our front door.
You might think you’re not an animal person, but I would say that you have to relearn most things about yourself after a trauma. I’m happy I was wrong.
This concludes my series of posts on Domestic Violence Awareness and living with PTSD. We’re getting back to the poetry and novel writing and life updates soon. Thanks for hanging in here with me, and I hope the posts helped.