The story of Bia

The reason I am here.

I pulled into Home Depot, 2 hours early, and almost threw up.

It had been close to a year that I had been buried navigating a divorce. I lost my home, most of my business, every penny I had to my name, my dog and a lot more, including my sanity. It was my fault. But loss is loss. I was suffering.

I was surrounded by friends and family and all the love I could ask for but I was utterly alone. I was angry. At myself. At the world. I wanted my dog back. I wanted peace. I wanted to sleep. I wanted it all to end.

I teetered back and forth for days and weeks and months. Some days the idea of giving up and letting the lights go out for good sounded like the way, with brief “hang in there” periods showing face just enough to keep me breathing. Quitting was easy, I never liked easy, even in the dark moments. Pulling the trigger was a cowards way out. None the less, I spent many nights looking down the barrel of my 9mm hoping for a “moment of bravery” that would let the suffering stop. I wasn’t going to be a coward.

I grieved and allowed myself to experience the process and the loss. Eventually I’d let myself glance over adoption sites and rescue pages. I wanted to wake up.

One day my eyes landed on a stout little 4 month old Shepherd, Bella. I reached out to the rescue…Bella was already promised to a family she had met with, but they said they’d be willing to set up a meet and greet just in case. We agreed to meet a few days later at a Home Depot about an hour from home.

I spent the next few nights crying myself to sleep, for a lot of reasons at the time, but mostly because for the first time in over a year, I had something positive to experience. I had somewhere to be. I had to still be here in a few days to meet the dog. I knew I probably wasn’t going to get the dog, she had a family waiting, but for the first time in ages, I had a purpose and a day where I got to go exist in a happy space, even if it was fleeting…It’s powerful what a little hope in a dark room can do for your soul. It’s powerful to have a purpose.

I remember pulling into the parking lot hours early. I sat in my car and looked over Bella’s adoption page every few minutes, tapped my hands nervously on the wheel and told myself I'd get some computer work done which was a lie because I really was just hoping they’d show up early for the meet and greet and spent the next hour and a half unlocking and locking my phone.

“She’s smaller than I thought”.

I said it out loud when I saw her powering her way through the front door with the owners of the rescue in tow. I got in and out of my car 3 times…Do I just walk in? Do I wait for them to call me? Do I call them and tell them I saw them? Christ man it’s a dog calm down. The phone rang…”we’re here!” and I headed in.

This period of life was dominated by the forces of loss and loneliness. The wanting is so hard, the agony of total and complete loss, it spirals and it infects every area of life. But it helped me learn. It is the single set of life experiences that I have had that have taught me the most empathy toward others. In my past life, I felt little emotion for people in their mourning, missing and loss. I was cold and uncaring. But having been to the bottom of that well, understanding the human experience of loss, the mind numbing emptiness and hopelessness that comes with it…I will never forget, and I will never not fight back tears when I see another human experiencing loss and loneliness. We are the same. Everyone around you has experienced their own version of these moments, be kind. It doesn’t take much hope to save someone.

Bella was far too busy barking at and investigating everything in the store to pay me any attention. I shook hands with the rescue owners, took a knee, said “Hey there little B!” and extended a hand to the 40lb ball of anxiety in front of me. To my surprise (and apparently everyone from the rescue), she trotted over, plopped herself right down next to me, stopped barking and looked up at her foster parents with a look of “yeah he’ll do”. It took everything I had as a man not to break down and cry right there in the middle of the store. I knew I wasn’t going to get the dog, she had a family waiting for her, but in that moment, I was sitting on the floor with nothing bad or scary around me, with an innocent happy little monster of a dog flopping around my lap. It was the first moment of joy I had felt in a very, very long time.

Our first moment together.

I told her foster family my story, fighting back tears the entire time (I let a few go, so did they). Bella sat quietly next to me. Quiet was apparently not a strong point of hers according to the rescue. I started to feel heavy, knowing my moment of joy was coming to an end as we said our goodbyes. I gave Bella one last pet, the last one I’d give her before she headed off to her family. I thanked them for giving me a moment of happiness, it was going to keep me going a little longer. I wiped my eyes, walked into the crisp winter air and plugged in the GPS coordinates home and started the drive back. 15 minutes later, the phone rang. It was the rescue.

“She has to be yours. We talked it over. We’ve never seen her connect with someone like that. If you want her, she’s yours”. I had to pull over on the side of the road and apologize as I fought through the cascade of tears and sobs to somehow blurt out a “YES". I don’t remember much of the conversation beyond that. I sat for a long time on the side of the road after the call ended with my head in my hands sobbing. I was so light headed I was worried I was going to pass out. I had endured over a year of the most crippling, draining, destructive experience I had ever been through, and in this moment, I had everything. I felt truly alive. I knew I would live from that point on. I was going to be ok.

I am not a believer in fate or destiny. I think we build our lives into what they are, but it requires action and intention. The smallest choices can and will determine the largest outcomes in your life. One call, one email, one thought…or lack there of, can set you back years from your goals in life or make your dreams happen in an instant. If you live your life paralyzed by fear of action, you will never fulfill your deepest purposes in life. So act. The worst fate you can endure is to look back and wish you did more.

I spent the next week preparing my home and my life for Bella. The day before she arrived, I sat and through teary eyes watched her new name slowly engrave into a pink heart shaped dog tag..B..I..A. Bia. The Greek goddess of force, strength and power. A name she has embodied every second since. Bia, you are a force.

The dark clouds blew away the minute Bia stormed into my apartment. Since that day, we’ve spent 6 years together exploring this earth. She’s traveled across North America with me, into the mountains and rainforests of the Pacific Northwest and into the even larger landscapes of the Canadian Rockies. She is consistent in her needs, in her energy, in her drive and in her connection to me. She gave me reason and purpose when I had nothing else.

I wrote this to explore for myself the lessons Bia has taught me and to remind myself of the journey she has helped me along. She has taught me how to love, both myself and others. She is a constant reminder to show up, every, single day, in any and every way that I can. She is the reason I am still here. If this is the impact a single dog can have on a man, imagine what your own kindness, love and support can do for another human. An extended hand, a 5 minute conversation, a text, a call, a hug. Someone, somewhere needs you. Don’t look back and wish you could have done more.

Bia, I owe you my life. We have so many adventures ahead.

Onwards, Always.