A Christmas Wish and a Dog Named Honey: A Story of Love, Loss, and New Beginnings
Honey copilots with Camo.
Written by Honey's Mom (Sheila Hagar)
It was just before Christmas, and I was driving home through the almost-daily drizzle and fog of our area in winter.
More and more, I’d been wishing for a companion in the seat next to me, someone to look out the window and let me know how exciting the world can be. I finally took the situation to God. I’m not much of an asker, until it comes to the serious stuff.
“God, you know we need a dog. Please give us a dog. I’ve waited a long time,” I said, running the conversation through my head again to make sure I hadn’t mixed up “God” and “dog.”
After our dachshund died in 2021, I wasn’t sure my heart could love another dog. Pippi had been a lifeline in a time like no other. Working crazy hours at home as a reporter during the waves of Covid — typing in the numbers of local and national cases and deaths every day was its own kind of killer. But playtime with Pippi was the medicine I needed.
I feared I could never replace that.
But the heart wants what the heart wants, and for two years I’ve been searching the pages of local animal shelters. I’m a fan of adoption and rescue.
Once home from my tasks on this particular December day, I again hit the internet. There, on Blue Mountain Humane Society’s impounded animals page, a big pair of shiny eyes looked right into my own.
The jolt to my heart was immediate. “I think I am looking at our dog,” I told Gracie the cat.
Those eyes belonged to Honey, a mix of Chihuahua, dachshund and darling. She’s black, brown and dalmatian, judging from the white areas sprinkled with black freckles.
Surely, though, this cutie pie would be claimed. I checked in every few hours, preparing to be disappointed when her picture disappeared.
Yet she stayed on the page. I asked when this little girl would be available for adoption, filled out an application and waited, afraid to hope. It’s not like I’d ever wanted a chihuahua, even in a mix, but something was pulling at me.
So there Camo Man (my husband) and I stood on the day after Christmas, waiting for noon and the doors to our future to open. “We’re here for Honey,” I blurted at the front counter, like a child at the circus.
In the blink of an eye, I was signing papers for a home trial while Honey and Camo calmly sat together and watched.
In gathering the little information the shelter had on my new dog, staff cautioned us that she was a little lean, even for her itsy-bitsy size.
Her owner hadn’t really wanted to give her up but thought it best for Honey, the adoption specialist said.
“She’s been living in unhoused situations,” she added, speaking of both owner and dog, as we traded sad glances.
Camo and I could tell that Honey was the right match for us from the get-go, we sure could. Let me count the ways.
I’m not sure there’s a smarter dog out there. Honey knows commands, she obeys right away and needs just one time to learn a rule. After Gracie explained to Honey — with the swish of a paw — that her food bowl is off limits, that boundary hasn’t been breached.
Honey is the cuddliest dog we’ve ever had. She burrows into the crook of my arm and falls fast asleep, secure in what’s obviously a familiar position. At night she nestles under the covers until the time comes to be airlifted to her own blanket and crate.
There has not been a single toilet accident, no chewing or aggression. Even old-lady Gracie has loosened up and is considering granting Honey’s wish to play tag with her.
It’s obvious someone spent every minute loving this little dog, and that made me think a lot about the person who cared for Honey before she came into our life — it made me think a lot about the different situations pet owners might find themselves in, and all the ways that pets can still get what they need from these humans. I thought about how hard it must have been to give Honey up.
Nobody has an answer for getting folks everything they need, including housing, but we do know pets check a lot of boxes for all of us.
Animals provide emotional support, like friendship, companionship, and unconditional acceptance. They reduce loneliness and anxiety and decrease social isolation.
Pets give us a reason for structure and schedules which, in turn, gives us a sense of more order, less chaos.
It’s harder to stay depressed when a creature needs you to do your job of loving them.
All of this doubles for people wondering where they will lay their heads at night. There are undoubtedly days when their pet is the only living thing that’s looked at them with only love and never judgement.
There are many more benefits, but I hope Honey’s first mom understands that in doing the selfless act of giving up her pup, our lives are now enriched 100-fold. That all the time she put into this tiny creature shows in every Honey kiss and snuggle.
I hope the cold spot now in her life — where this little dog used to be — gets warmed by other joyful things. I hope she finds health and happiness, equal to what Honey has already brought us.
I think I’ll take this situation to God.
