10/22/2026
Once back in New York, I realized I was seriously considering keeping her. I cried for hours, feeling guilty for wanting to adopt such an “easy” and “desirable” dog when I had the capacity to take on a harder one. But as a 27 year old single woman in NYC, she just made sense.
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There was no “love at first sight” feeling. I’m too much of an overthinker for that, but something about her felt different. While I agonized over the decision, my foster buddy asked, “Why do you want to adopt her?” I said, “Selfish reasons, but I’m ready for my own dog, I miss the companionship when my fosters leave. She seems to be good with dogs and kids, and she fits my lifestyle so well.” She so eloquently replied, “Those are not selfish reasons, they’re the right reasons to adopt.” So, to the surprise of my fellow volunteers, I foster failed on tiny Paddles.
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Over the next few months I learned that I in fact could *not* take her everywhere just because she’s small. And she isn’t “chill,” as I once observed, she has significant urban anxiety. But dogs are living, sentient beings, not stuffed animals. Our bond grew as I learned her dislikes and what enriched her life. I consulted a behaviorist to get her on the right medication and worked tirelessly on her separation anxiety until she could be left alone for hours with no problem. Today I can say I wouldn’t change a thing.
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After losing Beethoven to the same terrible cancer diagnosis, I feel she was meant to end up in my home. It feels cruel to experience this disease twice, but I know I would not have caught this without that prior experience. I don’t know how many more Gotcha Days we will have, but I do know this tiny dog I would “never adopt,” my “palate cleanser,” has changed my life in an immense way. I love you, Paddles.
