The life of a dog can change in a minute. One day you are a puppy living on a goat farm in rural Ohio with your mom and your siblings. The next day you’re on your way to the suburb of a big city, bound for a new adventure.
I can remember that it was a warm fall day in September of 2012 the first time I met Doc. I was only six weeks old and was playing in the yard with my brothers and sisters when a car pulled up to the farm house. A tall woman with dark hair exited the car and came toward us. As soon as she saw out little black furry bodies, her face softened and her eyes began to sparkle. She got down in the grass, turned us on our backs, rubbed our bellies, looked in our ears, inspected our teeth, grabbed our tails and shook a can with rocks in it to see if we startled easily. I have to admit that at first I thought she was a little pushy, but after a while I could tell she was the kind of human that liked to have fun. I kept going over to her and licked her toes so she would know that I liked her. What I didn’t know at the time was that Doc was choosing a puppy to be trained as a therapy dog. The “games” she played with us helped her to gauge our temperament. Soon Doc rose from the grass, got in the car and drove away.
Four weeks went by, when one morning, the man that owned the farm, came in the barn and told me it was time for a bath because I was going to have a new home. I liked it at the farm, but I was ready for a change. I was almost ten weeks old and didn’t need my mother to nurse me anymore. After my bath I was getting a blow dry when there was a knock at the door. In walked Doc. I was happy to find out that she would be my new human mother. We all said our goodbyes and then got in the car. I snuggled in her lap, nose to tail, where I fell right to sleep and dreamed of my new home. I could not have imagined the wonderful journey that lay before me.