On February 1 we said goodbye to our puppy dog and none of us were sure when we would have another pet. Henry was a

sweet boy and we loved him dearly. Saying goodbye was incredibly difficult, and so was the silence he left behind. As it turned out I started feeling quite desperate for a new dog in mid March, checking local rescue sites and looking for a dog that was right for us.

But even as I looked I wasn’t sure that I was actually ready to open my heart again, and I certainly wasn’t sure if my husband was ready. Our daughter has been wanting her own pet for quite a while. Henry was older when she was born and had his incident that left him partially paralyzed when she was only 6 months old. It’s been a long time since he had really run around and played, and he wasn’t in any position to learn new tricks.

We had also heard that rescue dog with their own anxieties can help kids with anxiety. The child will start to look after the dog and ease some of the thoughts in their own head.

And then I found him.

This is Frankie. He’s a rescue dog. He’s originally from Colombia and ended up in Canada and found his way to us. I found his beautiful little face on the rescue website and we decided to apply for him. Last week we brought him home.

I don’t think we could have found a better dog for us.

He loves the kid. They cuddle together and play. She’s going to take the lead in obedience classes. He is good on walks and already mostly house trained. Our vet gave him the all clear, except for a couple of issues we can clear up or monitor.

And I feel incredibly guilty for feeling so good about this dog so soon after we lost our dear lovely boy.

Sometimes I think how happy I am to have a dog that will chase a ball again – Henry had mostly stopped playing with his toys. A dog that will happily walk a distance. A dog that gets excited to see my daughter – she comes in, in the mornings, and a little tail starts wagging and he bounds over to her.

In the first few days it was not helped by the fact that Frankie, though larger than Henry by a few kilograms, could almost be Henry’s ghost.

The little face, the ears, the little tail. The way he cuddles up against my legs.

When we applied for Frankie I said to my daughter that this adoption might not work out, but Henry would make sure we got the right dog. I think we have the right dog, and I need to remember to open my heart up to him a little bit more. He’s a very good boy and he deserves every bit of it.

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