True Life: I would be an animal hoarder if I had the space for it.

This is what a blog is for, right? It’s like a therapist but you’re supposed to work it out yourself? Sounds about right to me.

Do I think my animal-obsession is an actual issue? No. Because the more adopted animals the better. Speaking of, click here and climb down the rabbit hole with me!

Is this good for me? Probably not. I have always loved animals but do I need to have 1,000 of them? Absolutely not! Would I? Probably!!

 2004: Everything started with Madagascar, the neighborhood hussy. Because my luck was thriving at 10 years old, she just so happened to be knocked up. I convinced my mother to take her in because we had a bond “unlike anything my mother had seen before” (clearly like-mother-like-daughter). She had kittens and against my 10 year-old better judgment, I let my mom give them away. I played with them everyday until they were gone and shed far too many tears over their departure.

2013: Fast forward to college, I adopt a sweet nugget with my roommates (you know, “it’ll be OUR dog!!”) and he turned into my dog, and then my mothers. I can be real about it now, I was irresponsible and immature. I did what I could but Carson was not the right dog for the lifestyle I was living. I did what I could, including spending more than I would like to admit on dog classes, but nothing helped him. He was unhappy in my environment but loved me enough to pretend. It got to the point where he wasn’t even comfortable in my apartment and my roommates hated him. Honestly, I loved Carson and I couldn’t be more grateful for him being in my life but I’m mostly grateful for how happy he makes my mom now. Carson was meant to be a part of our family, but college wasn’t for him. It made his anxiety, aggression, and a slew of other common rescue-dog related issues turn into aspects of his personality that would later take a lot of work on. So, my mom and I sent sweet nugget on a plane and now he is living the dream in San Diego!

2016: Fast forward again, now it’s post-graduation. Ryan and I move into our own place (finally!!!!!!!!) and we cannot resist getting furry-friends to call our own. We both cannot imagine a home without pets to come home to, but we weren’t on the market for a dog yet. After a month or two, Ryan convinced me to go to an adoption event. It was almost ironic because we left frustrated and I had to convince him to stop at ONE more shelter. We made it to the first row in the cat section and decided to leave with a bonded pair. As luck would have it, the shelter was having a “clear the shelter day” and was waiving all adoption fees. It felt like fate. I could plug the whole story, but I’ve wasted my breath far too many times and if you want the whole story click above. Long story short, we fell in love, got lots of cuddles, and about $7,500 of debt later, we lost both cats to unexpected liver failure.

Last fast forward, I promise.

It’s December 2016 and we’re devastated, we lost both cats within a week. The holidays are for snuggles and warm blankets, and if you ask Ry and I, the holidays also mean puppies. Our apartment felt quiet and we were both emotionally drained. I was having more anxiety than normal (which was to be expected) and I couldn’t get my mind out of the shelter. I spent hours on end at work stalking PetFinder, reading dog bios and avoiding pictures of cats. December 3rd was a really gloomy day, but Ryan was convinced we had to go to the shelter. I agreed, but after saying no until noon. I waited in the car for him and eventually he ran down to tell me his friend called and he was on his way over early–

December 3rd was a really gloomy day, but Ryan was convinced we had to go to the shelter. I’m not sure what it was but he was like a kid on Christmas, waking me up every hour until I finally couldn’t fall asleep. I agreed around noon. I waited in the car for him and eventually he ran down to tell me his friend called and he was on his way over early – yada yada yada and he couldn’t go anymore. I was already in the car so I decided to go anyway. I had a dog in mind, but really I wasn’t too picky and I figured I would go and give Ry a few options. I showed up to the shelter and requested “Bo” because his online profile was my favorite. The front desk gentleman told me that Bo wasn’t expected to arrive until the 5th but that they had many other dogs and I should go explore. I didn’t hesitate but to say I wasn’t disappointed would be a lie. I walked around and ended up spending some time with a sweet Great Dane mix and of course wanted to take him home, but eventually that led me to walking through the wrong room towards the exit and see Bo in his cage, just arriving. I immediately found a shelter volunteer and told them that he was the dog I wanted, but I was shrugged off a few times due to the number of new arrivals and the natural insanity of 20+ dogs. Finally, a gentleman came in and humored me, even letting me leash Bo and get to know him. We had an instant bond and I knew that if I let him get entered into the shelter system, he would be gone before I had time to come back in the morning. I expressed my interest and they informed me that there were already 8 applications for him, but that I would have priority if I filed an application and proceeded with the following required steps. Essentially, Remy (originally named Bo) spent less than 4 hours in the shelter before I got to take him home. I half-suprised Ryan by bringing Remy home but he trusted my instinct.

Remy was the light at the end of our tunnel. We are blessed with Remy and his joy. He makes us so happy and is a perfect addition to our little family.

But now Remy needs company, and I can only take half-credit for my inability to stay away from the shelter but it wasn’t all my idea. The place we got Remy, Homeward Trails, suggested that Remy have a companion dog but it isn’t required. Because we currently live in an apartment another dog is out of the question… but a cat… I think we are ready for (tough task, clearly).


So now we are on the lookout for a companion kitten for Remy. Preferably a little girl. We will see how long it takes me to bring one home. Over, under = 1 week?

P.S. the caption should probably say something more like:

True life: I am an animal hoarder, despite the fact I don’t have the space in my tiny ass apartment.



DISCLAIMER: I am purposefully painting a picture so please do not take everything I say to heart (such as statements like “i should have 4,000 cats because I’m lonely) SO let me repeat, I only have one dog and I am not actually hoarding animals in an apartment. I love animals. This is satirical story-telling and I am not condoning animal hoarding. I am also an adult and working to pay off the credit-card debt despite adopting another dog. Not that it is anyone’s business. Is my anxiety showing?

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