From Puppy-Dog Eyes to a Quiet New Hope

I’ve been thinking about dogs again — something I honestly didn’t expect to happen this soon. If you’ve ever loved a dog deeply, you know how complicated that feeling can be. I used to have a dog — a puggle — who passed away a little over two years ago. I had him from the time he was about eight weeks old. When I was around eleven when my parents decided they wanted a puggle, so we drove out to pick one up.

While we were there, I started playing with the other puppies. One of them — the runt — was so stinking adorable I couldn’t stand it. I had to have him. My mom said, “Ask your dad.”

My dad said no.

But I’m a daddy’s girl, and I wasn’t accepting that answer. So I did what Mom told me to do — because apparently she had taught me well in the art of the puppy-dog eyes. I went back up to him, cocked my head to the side, put my hands together on my cheek like I was resting on a pillow, made the biggest puppy-dog eyes I could manage, stuck out my bottom lip, and said, “Pleeeease daaaadddyyyy…”

His big, calloused hand went up and covered my entire face almost immediately — no hesitation — like he couldn’t bear to look at me.

We went home with two dogs that day.

I had my dog for most of my childhood and all of my adult life. Losing him hurt, but I grieved him well and found my rhythm again. I wasn’t avoiding the idea of another dog — it just hadn’t crossed my mind in a meaningful way until now.

One day I assumed I would get another dog, but it was not something that I was actively considering—not yet. Then out of nowhere the opportunity came up to take this dog in and for the last two days I have been genuinely considering taking this dog in.

I want him — I really do — but I’m trying to be responsible. Can I afford it? My house is small, but the layout is open. My fenced area isn’t huge, but it’s enough for potty breaks. I’d need to take him to the dog park regularly for exercise.

These are some of the things I’m weighing carefully.

I’ve also been praying about it — asking whether this is the right choice for both me and the dog. I don’t want to bite off more than I can chew, but I also don’t want to ignore something that could be really good for both of us.

I keep coming back to the same thought: I think this dog could help me in a lot of ways, and I think I could help him too.

I don’t know what I’m going to decide yet. I’m giving myself space to think, pray, and be honest about what I can handle. But I also feel a quiet hope rising — the kind that feels like maybe, just maybe, it’s time for a new chapter. And maybe that chapter includes a dog.