i got toby when i was in rehab when i was 19 years old. that's right, i was in rehab. did y'all know that? i had a nasty eating disorder when i was younger, and it took me far away to rehab when i was newly 19. i went to inpatient in arizona for 30 days. i thought after that i'd be done, back home and cured for good - shit, was i was wrong. after arizona, i went to florida for four months for out-patient... and that's where i found my toby.
i was lonely in treatment, needless to say. treatment is a horribly scary, lonely place. and the further into treatment i got, the lonelier i became. my out-patient facility in florida encouraged 'pet therapy'. and i thought to myself, 'sweet!! i can get a dog like i've always wanted!' it sounded easy enough, but it wasn't. the delray beach/boca raton area is a HUGE rehab community. when i walked into the first pet adoption place i felt judged - they took one look at me and my friend, and did not want to place an animal into my care. and looking back on it now, in their defense, rightfully so. i was 19. i was unstable and in rehab, for god's sake. and so, i ended up at puppy palace - a puppy store, that i'm sure now gets all there dogs from puppy mills. god forgive me!!
i wanted to adopt, but i was denied. i was crushed. but i wanted a damn dog to love on, and nothing was going to stop me. i took my roommate and best rehab friend lindsay with me to puppy palace - i had no idea what kind of dog i was looking for. the place had kiddy pools surrounded by fencing filled with puppies. i walked from pool to pool, and finally walked up to this one that was in the middle. there were so many puppies jumping around, crawling on each other, yipping and yapping, and there was one dead asleep on his back in the middle of the pool unaware of anything that was around him (he is now my toby).
i walked up to the pool. all these puppies walked up to me and lindsay, jumping up begging us to take them home. but i had my eye on this one weird little guy dead asleep, motionless in the middle of the pool. i swear to god, the second i was against the pool that damn puppy woke up, stood up and shook off, and ran over to me and jumped up. he looked at me with his little brown eyes and that was it - i was done for. and that little ball of fluff is now my toby.
i picked him up, and tears came to my eyes. he had a little hospital bracelet around his neck (they all did) with his birthday, price (gulp), and breed. i didn't know what the hell a shiba inu was, but what did i care - this dog and i were in love and i was going to take him home. i carried him to the front, wrote a check, and lindsay and i took him home.
i never grew up with a dog - i grew up with cats. and all of a sudden i was in rehab with an 8 week old puppy. i had no idea what to name him - how do you name a pet?? so lindsay and i got online, and pulled up a list of common dog names and we literally started from the letter 'a' and called to toby each name that caught my eye down the list. we were sitting at our dining room table, i called 'toby', and that little guy came running and jumped up on me. and so was the beginning of the relationship we have today.
toby is now 12 years old. well, he's over 12 years old actually - in fact, he turned 12 on february 16 of this year. i'm 31, and i got him when i was 19. we've been together through everything - and i mean, everything. he's been with me through hurt, heartache, happiness, every time i've cried, every time i've laughed, moved, fought, screamed, through every roommate, relationship, breakup, loss, victory... i mean, everything.
when toby turned 10, he hit the double-digits - his immortality was just so imminent all of a sudden. i hated it. and this last year, he had surgery - we had to have a tumor removed. the tumor was benign, and apparently very common among 'older' dogs, but it sucked. i had to drop him off one morning, and wait for them to be done to pick him up the next day. when i dropped him off, i cried. when i went home from work that day and he wasn't there, i couldn't help but think to myself, 'is this what it's going to be like when he dies? i'm going to get home? and it's going to be quiet? and still? and alone?' i couldn't take it. i called the vet the next morning to check on toby. he made it through surgery, and i was counting the hours 'til i could pick him up. i cried when i dropped him off, and i cried when i picked him up. and he was happy when i picked him up - he was freaking out!! if he was so happy, how could i be crying? and how the hell was i going to handle it if i ever had to go to the vet with him and not leave with him?
toby is happy and healthy and insanely energetic for a 12 year old dog... but i think about it. his face is getting whiter. he's slowing down. he sleeps more. he has that sagging 'old dog tummy'. and let's face it, he will leave me one day. i pray and pray that i won't be in the position i will have to put him down. sometimes i've, ahem, gotten drunk and put him in a headlock pleading to him, 'toby, when it is your time, please just go on your own. please don't put me in the position that i'll have to put you down because i don't know if i'll be strong enough.'
it may sound morbid to think about, i know - but i sometimes think about what it's going to be like when he isn't here anymore. most days i don't think about it, but some days (like today) i look at him with love and appreciation, and i think of what it is going to be like without him.
i think that throughout out lifetime, we are each blessed with a few select soulmates - and toby is one of mine. i am confident that i would not be where i am today without him. he came into my life at a time when i needed him most, and he saved me. my dog toby honestly saved me. he gave me something to live for, to love. he needed me and love me unconditionally. he looked at me like i could do not wrong. whenever i was upset or hurt or lost, i looked at him and i was calm. i know that toby will always be with me, no matter what happens or what may come between us - he is my angel.
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