When Teddy walked off the rescue van and into my life, I thought that having just one dog was perfect.  He had been billed as a dog who was happy to be an only dog, happy to be someone’s one and only.  That suited me too.  His warm, intelligent brown eyes watched my every move with approval, he loved our walks together and just hanging out.  He would put his head in my lap when I sat down and lean against me when I stood.  He was the perfect combination of polite but devoted.

One dog, one person.  Exactly the right number.

A few months later, I was back on Lucky Lab Rescue’s site.  It wouldn’t hurt to look, I reasoned, just to read about other dogs looking for homes.  Then I saw Chelsea, a beautiful golden girl with a pink nose.  I quickly shut my laptop closed and said no way. 

The next day I went back on the site and I did it again the day after that.  I clicked on the link and a few clicks later; I had agreed to adopt her.  What was my happy-to-be-an-only dog going to do now?

Chelsea was an impulse adoption. That’s pretty unusual for me.  I usually approach decisions by weighing the pros and cons and thinking, not feeling my way to a decision.  I was immediately torn.  On the one hand, this decision felt right, almost as if I was nudged toward it.  On the other hand, I worried this was a bad idea for Teddy.  In fact, I worried until the day we went to pick her up.

I was a fool to worry.

Chelsea walked off the rescue’s transport van – no, scratch that.  She pranced and sashayed off the van in a way that I would come to realize was all her.  When she met Teddy, her grin got wider.  I got a home with another dog in it, she seemed to say. 

She was certain that two dogs, one person was the perfect combination.

Something remarkable happened to Teddy.  He was immediately smitten.  His polite aloofness melted away.  Something I didn’t know was missing for him had appeared in his life. 

When we got home and Chelsea walked into our house, she acted like a happy, giggly princess surveying her realm.  She walked from room to room, noticing where the sofa was (so she could take a nap on it later), finding the dog water bowl and taking a few laps and last, nosing among Teddy’s dog toys and selecting one for herself.  Teddy followed her, eyes shining with pleasure. 

She sweetly, confidently and joyously took over.  She insisted on walking through doors first, she pushed in front of Teddy for treats and praise.  He didn’t mind one bit.  She took the warmest spot in the sun or the comfy one on the sofa.  He was pleased for her.  She pushed her head in my lap to be petted first, sometimes making him wait. He just grinned. 

Remarkably, his anxiety also disappeared.  It wasn’t just that Chelsea was there when I went to work, he simply felt more secure as part of a mini-pack and trusted in her confidence as much as she did.

Research shows that dogs feel love. Along the way, I learned that love and family meant somewhat different things to Teddy and Chelsea.  Teddy wanted to love and be loved back.  Chelsea wanted to share her love with multitudes.  When we went for a walk or to a gathering, she surged to each new person grinning, touching and often giving kisses.  Teddy nurtured his love for “his” handful of people (Chelsea included!), making it deeper each day. Chelsea expanded her love each moment and when it reached its edge, helped it expand even more.

Teddy yearned for a one-to-one bond and made it clear that I was his “person.” Chelsea wanted to be part of a family.  She loved everyone in “her” family equally and with outsized exuberance.  Teddy loved routine and order.  Chelsea simply loved fun.

Dogs come to teach us, I think. Chelsea changed how I thought about love. She was emotion in a dog’s body – joy, exuberance, happiness, curiosity, hope, humor, pleasure, enthusiasm, eagerness and of course, love. She was bursting with it, even smiling when she was asleep. She looked for ways to give it away, share it with you and bask in it.

Was this why I decided to click that adoption link based on my feelings, not my thinking?