Life without a dog



I feel like now is the right time to write this, because I’m sitting in my apartment all alone. Nobody else, no Roya, just me.
As I got up this morning and went to the bathroom, I held the bedroom door open just a little longer than I needed to, because usually the babygirl is right behind me. I tried not to use up any space on the carpet in front of the toilet because that’s usually where she lays down while I do my business. I thought about all the things I could manage to do fast, before I had to go for a walk with her. I got changed and didn’t put my fuzzy socks on the floor, because she would eat them up in seconds. I slowly moved the chair from underneath the kitchen table, in order not to scare miss anxious with the noise. I did all that without her even being here. It became a habit. A part of me, for her.
Roya stayed at my mom and grandma’s house last night, because we were out late and I’m about to go there again right now. Sometimes I think it would be soooo nice not having to go out into the freezing cold middle European November air first thing in the morning. Or it would be soooo nice not having to plan my day according to a dog’s eating schedule. But, bullshit. I’ve had Roya for exactly a year now and it feels like she’s been with be all along. It sounds so dramatic, but it’s like a part of me is running around on four paws. Now listen, Roya isn’t the easiest dog and having a dog in the first place isn’t easy. She’s stubborn and scared, ballsy and quiet. Sometimes she reminds me of myself. The first couple of months, I questioned what the fuck I had gotten myself into. Committed to taking care of another being for maybe 15 years?! Holy shit, I thought I had made a mistake. Then came the move and I knew I would have to walk her at least twice a day, because we wouldn’t have a garden anymore and what if she barked every time somebody made a noise in the building? She stopped eating properly, right as we tried to settle in and that’s when I got a little desperate.
It all took a great turn. I found a new dog trainer and fixed the eating problem. I fell in love with walking her (in fact, I enjoy the walks more than she does). She only barks, when someone enters the apartment, trying to defend her territory, which I secretly love. Like, ya girl, make some noise, take up your space, show them who’s the boss – but that might be the feminist in me. She stays home alone if she has to without any problems. I can do my whole morning routine, before taking her out, because she’s so patient. The whole move was kind of rough on me and I don’t know if I could have done it without her.
People keep telling me how awesome it is, that I rescued a dog, when really, she was the one that saved me. She got me out of the house, when I didn’t feel like going anywhere. She was the reason I had countless great conversations with other dog owners. She gets my mind off stupid things, and grounds me back into the routine I have with her. She loves me, even when I don’t like myself.
So, life without a dog? Unimaginable. I honestly don’t know if I would still be sane if it wasn’t for Roya. She is my everything and more. Truly an angle sent from heaven.

Puppy love forever,
Pari and Roya

Ps.: Don’t get a dog, if you’re not okay with pee on the carpet, hair everywhere or paws in your face while you sleep.

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