Fred Brill shares about how he and his wife surprisingly found a new canine companion.
When our kids moved out, our house got painfully quiet. My wife, Mimi, wanted a dog to hike with by day, cuddle by night. I just wanted to travel. Eventually, she wore me down, and we ended up at the local shelter. After meeting dozens of dogs, we spied a 50-pound pittie mix sitting quietly in a cage.
With his mussed-up hair, warm brown eyes, he looked like an old man trapped inside a dog’s body. The staff suggested we foster first, make sure Wyatt was a good fit. Then they told us he’d been hit by a car. He had two broken legs that needed surgery.
Of course, Mimi brought him home with us. But that night, I had a hard conversation with her: “If Wyatt can’t go on long hikes with us, maybe he’s not the right fit.” Mimi explained. “We all have broken parts and sometimes need help.”
This had to be the fastest foster fail ever. After Wyatt’s bones were rebroken and bolted back together, he was confined to a crate for a month. I had to carry him to the yard to do this business. At night, Mimi’d lie down beside him, reach between the bars, and scratch his ears so he wouldn’t cry. But in a matter of months, Wyatt was tackling six-mile hikes and cuddling with Mimi.