A Gentleman’s Greeting

July 21 wasn’t a particularly remarkable day. It was cloudy. The roads weren’t jammed packed nor were they open and free. Siri wasn’t telling me conflicting directions; she was straight and narrow. It would seem, though unnoticeable, that the stars were aligned.

I was about to meet the most handsome guy I had ever seen. I wasn’t just nervous. I was first-date, blind date, I-hope-he-likes-me nervous.

I remember getting out of the car thinking, “Be rational, logical and remember to ask all the questions.”

Then he shook my hand.

He shook my hand! No, pay attention.

There was no paying attention. He already won my heart. He put his furry little face in my hands and that’s all it took.

I’m so weak.

Cy came into my world and fit perfectly as if I had planned for his arrival, but the truth is: I didn’t really plan on rescuing him that day. I hoped and wished that it would work, but I knew that hoping and wishing never meant much in the past. I thought I would show up and see if he liked me. I had never rescued a dog before.

My first dog, Milan, was a pure breed AKC beagle that I got accidentally from a puppy mill. She flew in from Oklahoma in 2007. She was delivered to a hangar, large, empty and echoing her beagle bark that made me question what I was picking up that day. But, like Cy, she put her little furry face in my hands and she had my heart.

As promised, I FaceTimed my boyfriend of three years, Dan, half hoping he would say no, half hoping he would affirm everything, not really knowing what I wanted. He said, “I guess we’re getting a dog today.”

Dammit. But I can’t stop smiling.

I raced home. Cy curled up in the passenger seat. He’s calm. He’s cool. The perfect gentlemen.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I didn’t have a choice. Because it wasn’t me who picked Cy. Just like when Milan flew into my life. The monster that I feared in the hangar, turned into my best friend in an instant. Not because I planned it. Not because I hoped and wished. Because she chose to. Because Cy chose me.

After 12 years with Milan, she passed over the rainbow, as they say, when everyone left the room. On the day she died, I wrote, “Sometimes the most insignificant day becomes one of the most impactful.”

It wasn’t a particularly remarkable day…