Pawrenting Like a Boss

How One Rescue Dog Changed Everything

May 4, 2017, started like any ordinary day. I had my routine laid out. My to-do list was half checked. I had zero expectations that it would be a turning point in my life. But then, the phone rang. It was the local SPCA. They sounded desperate: a truck full of dogs from Mexico had arrived, overwhelming their resources. Without immediate fostering, some difficult decisions were on the horizon. I barely paused to think before I agreed to help.

The thing is, I wasn’t a stranger to the SPCA. Just a few months earlier, I had tried and failed at pawrenting. My initial attempt involved a timid little chihuahua, trembling as though she’d seen a ghost. I sat there, paralyzed by the fear that I’d already messed up somehow, which made me shiver too. By the time the volunteer returned, she found two quivering figures silently pleading to be rescued—from each other. I left with an empty lap. My heart felt humbled. I concluded that maybe I just wasn’t cut out for this.

The call came that Sunday. A voice in the back of my head asked, Are you sure about this? But this time was different. The moment I walked through those shelter doors, a certain resolve took over. The volunteer had a prepared list of dogs for me. It was tailored to my profile. We were set to head to the kennels. She paused and glanced at a notification on her screen. It was a new entry: Romo.

Romo was a shepherd mix, all lean bones and eyes that seemed to have lived a thousand stories. He wasn’t on any list, but he was right there, waiting. The volunteer’s smile was tinged with sadness as she told me, “He never gets picked. Always gets overlooked.” If I hadn’t been sure before, I was now. I had to meet Romo.

The play area introduction was not without its awkward moments. He ran toward me, tail wagging, only to lose interest and chase after another volunteer with treats. My heart sank a little, but the SPCA staffer gave me an encouraging nudge. “Give it time,” she said. “He comes back when he’s ready. He doesn’t ask for treats—that’s a good sign.” And come back, he did, with a look that seemed to say, So, are we doing this?

Five hours later, we signed the papers. Romo was on his way to his new home. He eyed me like a co-conspirator in a grand adventure. Before I could even put the shelter’s bag of kibble onto the kitchen counter, Romo left me a welcome-home gift. It was an unapologetic poop by the fridge. It was his way of saying, Buckle up, this ride’s about to start.

The first night was filled with nerves and quiet conversations between us. I lay in bed with my shoes on, whispering, “Please wake me if you need to go.” He settled on the bean bag next to my bed, closing his eyes as if to say, I’ve got this. True to his word, he nudged me awake at 3 a.m., and we ventured out into the chilly San Francisco night for the first of many late-night walks.

Those walks turned into our secret ritual. We explored the city in a completely new way. I saw it through the eyes of a dog. He acted like every block was uncharted territory. Every noise was an unsolved mystery. Mornings became about more than just coffee and emails. They were about chasing sunbeams. He barked at passing cyclists as if they were ancient rivals.

Two years with Romo felt like a lifetime and a blink all at once. He woke up parts of me I didn’t know were dormant. He awakened compassion and spontaneity in me. I also found an inexplicable joy in the simple act of being needed. He made me laugh on days when the world seemed bleak. He reminded me that a little bit of chaos is beautiful.

Romo would have turned 10 today. I miss him, and some days, the silence where his barks used to be is deafening. But life has a way of filling those spaces when you least expect it.

On May 5, 2019, almost like a whisper from Romo himself, a little fluffball named Sauli entered my life. She didn’t replace him; she expanded what he had already built. She brought her own quirks and tiny barks that seemed to say, I’m here. Let’s keep going.

And so, we did. Because that’s the thing about being a pawrent: it doesn’t end. The journey, the love, the lessons—they continue, filling your life with stories that are waiting to be shared.

Once a Pawrent, always a Pawrent!

Note: Adopt, don’t shop. You never know which soul is waiting for you, ready to change your world forever.