Walter's and My Origin Story

I wrestled with when to get a dog for years and years. Finally, when the stars were aligned and I knew the time was right, I filled out an application with Long Island Golden Retriever Rescue. A few months later, after an actual home visit for them to make sure I was up to snuff, I waited about 4 - 5 months, and finally got the call. There was a dog, “the right dog for me”, they explained, noting a dog who was already acclimated to NYC with all of the noise and overstimulation, who needed a home.

First photo I received of Walter

His name was Walter. He was a purebred with papers. His family had 2 children under the age of three and the parents decided it was too much to care for a dog as well. I also learned he was almost five years’ old. I knew I didn’t want a puppy. But five. I was hoping for a one to two year old. Goldens live about 12 - 13 years. It was painful to think we will have lost 5 precious years off the bat. But a moment later, I just blurted out, “Yes, I will take him.” We rarely get what we want, exactly how we want it. This dog was meant for me, and I had to say yes.

I rarely take vacations, or ones that are very long, but, of course, the day I got the call about Walter was 1 - 2 days before I was going away for about 12 days. LIGRR matched Walter up with a volunteer foster family to care for him during the time I would be away.

I admit, I was nervous. Oh my god, this is real. And though I waited for the perfect time [to get a dog], it happened to be just one week prior to me starting a big new job. I didn’t know what my regular work hours or travel demands would look like. It was a lot of change all at once.

While on vacation, I got a text from LIGRR notifying me that Walter was kicked out of his foster home! Apparently, there was an “incident” (they would not tell me more but my imagination went wild) between Walter and the foster family’s golden, over bacon. I liked this dog. I hadn’t even met him yet, but I was instantly sticking up for him. “What kind of response do you expect when you give the highest value treat in the whole damn world to 2 dogs?!” He obviously had some moxie. [Later on, I learned sharing really wasn’t his thing. He never changed his position on that. He also kept that moxie till the very end.]

So Walter spent the rest of my vacation in a veterinarian’s kennel. The day I got back to NY, I went to go pick him up. Walter came into the room with a crazed look in his eye, skinnier than any golden I’ve ever seen (skinny, but not emaciated), and with, oh my god, more dandruff than I have ever seen. Um, ok, this is my dog now. I signed the adoption papers, feeling weird that, with a stroke of a pen, I was now responsible for this soul.

I’ve thought about Walter’s former family from time to time. I can’t understand how they gave him up. But I’m so appreciative that they did; and that they were responsible enough to give him the best chance at a good life when they connected with LIGRR. Side note, almost every breed has a rescue, as in [City] + [Breed name] Rescue. And if you really want a purebred, you can absolutely rescue one.

So our journey, mine and Walter’s, began. On our first two days, I totally freaked out. I still mourned the loss of my parents’ last golden, Tigger, who had passed away a year prior. I didn’t get a dog just to move on, but I thought it would help. Walter’s presence seemed to make that sadness more pronounced. I was scared about my new job and how all of this would work. And I expected to feel this instant bond with Walter and I just didn’t. He was my charge, so I would care for him and protect him. But I didn’t feel love for him. Or maybe I was so nervous and scared, I didn’t know what I was feeling exactly. But as my mother pointed out on our first day together, Walter knew he was mine. He looked at me differently than everyone else. He knew I was his person. He was also likely thinking, “oh my god, this is my person?!” But his person nonetheless.

I looked up old texts from that time. In usual neurotic fashion, if I wasn’t perfect, if the situation wasn’t perfect, I was beating myself up for being a failure. I freaked out for just two damn days. And then I started to breathe and actually enjoy Walter. I can’t say when I loved him, like, LOVED him. That grew with a little time - a few more days or weeks. I think I had to get used to my new identity being his person, his mom, as much as getting used to him, period.

Now, I feel like I’m having a bit of an identity crisis. I didn’t just lose Walter, which in and of itself is so much. I am no longer taking care of him, thinking about his happiness and needs every day. I lived 45 years before Walter. Suddenly, I'm wondering, on some level, who I am without him.

I’m sharing this with you, I guess just to say, even though I’m in the worst, most painful moment of my grief for Walter, ground zero, I would not trade the time we had for anything or anyone else.

When I first got Walter, I struggled because he wasn't Tigger. Now I can't imagine any dog for me that isn't Walter.

So if you’re mulling the “down sides” of adopting an older pet, or maybe feel nervous that you haven’t bonded with your new furry family member quickly or deeply enough, I hope I may have given you something to consider.