Look at the face in the picture. Almost 4 years ago I adopted that face and the four paws that came with it. A sausage dog with no tail, Jarvis, was to join my existing dog, bringing my family to a perfectly balanced human/canine ratio.
Adopting a dog is a stressful and sometimes painful process. After a long search through several Spanish dog shelters, being asked countless questions, asking the same back and knowing nothing for sure, I signed the papers. Jarvis arrived shaking like a leaf, hiding behind furniture and urinating on our living room floor. As I looked at that small furry face I barely felt a thing, other than worry and doubts. Had I made the right decision?
Please understand I was trying really hard to be as welcoming as possible. I made sure Jarvis was cared for, fed, walked and entertained as much as our other dog Nero. We bought him toys, new harnesses — he kept chewing them up - new bedding — he kept urinating indoors, even after been walked 4 times a day. I told myself that eventually Jarvis would settle in, and he would be part of my little family, like he’d always been there.
Only, I was wrong. After a month, Jarvis began attacking Nero. At first it was just a series of squabbles. Over time came blood, cuts and a lot of heartbreak. The little bundle of fur I had let into my house was obsessed with hurting my best friend. How would you feel about someone who tries to beat up your best friend, repeatedly?
Every attack felt senseless, gut-wrenching and unmanageable. We toyed with the idea of rehoming him, since nothing seemed to work, and all us humans did seemed to worsen the situation. We argued, cried, pointlessly screamed at Jarvis. So why did we keep him?
I didn’t think I loved him, but I knew he deserved love. He was an innocent animal, terrified and misunderstood. And that’s when I made the decision that maybe Jarvis wasn’t for us, but I would help him live in this world. So then came finding the right dog trainer, changing our lifestyle, the long-tiring walks, the never-ending trial and error phases. And through every step, and every set-back — always due to one of us humans screwing up — it crept up on me.
I’m pretty sure it took me a couple of years to truly love Jarvis. To say “if anything happens to him I will be devastated”, realise I missed him when I wasn’t with him. I am also sure that during that amount of time Jarvis didn’t really like me much. He may have been OK with having me around, accepted me as part of his family, but I’m pretty convinced he didn’t think greatly of me. I’d try to touch him he would hide under the bed, I’d call him and he would never come.
However, now… he is obsessed with me. I’m sure he sees me as a giant tennis ball. He follows me around trying to get my attention whenever he is awake. He licks my nose every time I come close to him. Every bedtime he seeks me out to snuggle for a good half hour. When I fall asleep, he leaves me to go to his own bed. Every night.
“Love at first sight” is a tagline that puts a lot of pressure on anyone failing to feel anything similar. It’s sounds like the biggest accolade to any love story: “he/she/they was made for me”. I chose Jarvis because he was a small sausage dog with no tail and no family. That’s it. I didn’t love him when he arrived at my door-step covered in his own vomit — he is extremely prone to motion sickness — , I felt nothing but horror the first time he attacked Nero, and felt extremely guilty when he wouldn’t let me near him, because my tone of voice had scared him. I felt a lot, but nothing felt like love.
Adopting a dog is HARD WORK. It needs to be said with capital letters because so many dogs are abandoned every year for ridiculous reasons: because they resist doing their “business” outside, because they shed too much hair or chewed up the furniture.
For me, adopting a dog meant mixed emotions, self-doubt and a lot of heartbreak. Sometimes I wonder if I’m a decent dog owner, even when cooking food from scratch for my dogs or taking them to the vets for their regular check-ups. I’ll find a picture from Jarvis of a while back, and remember how he had attacked Nero just hours after that picture was taken and it still makes me shudder.
I don’t love Jarvis because I fixed him. Nothing is “fixed”. He is still a traumatised rescue dog, with issues and requiring a specific routine, no loud voices or strong arm gestures, a safe place to hide. I can’t go on long holidays — right now I don’t even dare going on a short break — because I am terrified about leaving my dogs without my supervision. This is something that haunts me.
I love Jarvis because he plays with Nero daily — just this morning I caught them chewing each other’s ears. I love Jarvis because he is the happiest dog I have ever met. I love Jarvis because he likes to snuggle like a teddy bear — yes, I have a sausage dog who likes to be held like a plush toy and he is stupidly soft, have your ovaries exploded yet?
I love him because he is hard work, and we, his family, are hard workers. There was no love at first sight, but we were obviously a match from the start. It just took us a good while to “click”.
Oh Jarvis, such a lovely boy, aren’t you? — his other human, February 14th, 2017.
