I’ve always loved animals—especially cats and dogs—ever since I was a kid. But somehow, as I grew up, I developed an unreasonable fear of them. I want to pet them, snuggle with them, be best friends… but the moment they get too close, I panic. No idea why. Cows might be to blame, though. Too many terrifying childhood memories involving cows. But that’s a story for another day.
So, my sister adopted the most adorable little shelter puppy—just 2-3 weeks old. Never seen anything cuter. By the time I met her, she was almost 2 months old, bigger than I expected. Super friendly, excited to meet me, and so loving. And yet… I was scared. Even though I knew she wouldn’t hurt me.
She stood on her tiny legs, front paws resting on my bed, looking up at me with pure curiosity and love. But she didn’t jump up; she somehow knew I wasn’t comfortable. So instead, she stayed close, but not too close. My smart, compassionate baby.
Then, two days later—I got sick. High fever, completely drained. And weirdly enough… she also started acting sick. Lethargic, not eating, not playing. Then, in the evening, my fever eased up a little. I sat up, had a little food, and just like that, my puppy also got better. She became my snuggle buddy, sleeping curled up next to me every night.
I spoiled her rotten—ruined her eating habits completely. I, in turn, survived on chips and biscuits. Turns out, she was still tiny; my brain had just tricked me into thinking she was huge. Safe to say, perspective is a funny thing.
I’m glad you have her in your life 
