A YEAR WITH OAKLEY

"No."

This may or not have been my very favorite word over the last year.

It might have been whispered under my breath in disbelief when the proposal was first suggested.

It might have been repeated internally in outright denial of the events unfolding before my eyes.

It might have been shouted in enraged pleading as my parents drove away despite my wishes.

And finally, it has been screamed, snapped, yelled, crooned, hissed, scolded, and breathed out in laughter several times an hour over the past three hundred and sixty-five days.

My obvious overuse of the word is due entirely to one person and one person only.

Oakley Ann.

Oh, how much I did not want her. I did nooooottttt want her.

Perhaps it was because I had just sent my first book, I Prefer Spinster, out to several publishing companies. With the release of stress, worry, and lack of ability now forced into the hands of others, I felt I was in desperate need of a break.

Perhaps it was because we were already in possession of three dogs, all who came with their own quirks, demands, and frustrating needs.

Perhaps because despite my family's assurances that this dog would be just like her predecessor, the great and noble Hershey Sue, I knew deep down in my soul she was going to be anything but.

A fact she proved her very first night in our home.

Placing her in her kennel to sleep, my dad made promises he could not keep. "She'll be fine. We will all get some sleep."

Minutes, (I know I tend to exaggerate for effect and dramatics here on Negative (N)ellie, but I can guarantee this was the exact time frame of events.) minutes after being tucked into bed, the new puppy began expressing her displeasure. And in that same amount of time, she also relieved herself and painted her white fur a new color.

Taking the puppy into the bathroom, I washed her as best I could with the dog conditioner we had on hand, brought her into bed with me, and received absolutely no rest. Unaware of her body at all, Oakley Ann took many almost nose dives off of the bed, one in particular being halted only by the mattress, the wall centimeters from it, and my quick hands.

In the subsequent weeks that followed, I was unafraid and unrelenting in my drive to inform my family of the injustices that their actions had caused me. Like many a birth scene in a comedy, I could be heard proclaiming from the rooftops, "You did this to me!"

A year out from receiving the gift that is Oakley Ann, I still hold fast to the wrongs that were made, but now I see they were on both sides. I must make amends and admit that my family was right. We did need Oakley.

What would I do without the memory of she and Sadie playing tug of war when Sadie could literally throw her around?

What would I do without the image of her scaring me half to death when she climbed the stairs and stuck her head underneath the railing?

What would I do without the geysers in our backyard to remind me of her chewing phase?

What would I do without all of her white hair dotting my clothes, reminding me my best friend was waiting for me at home?

What would I have done countless times this year when the world seemed intent to break me, but Oakley Ann with her swift tongue and constant snuggles wiped away my tears?

What would I do without her beside me almost every time I write, a necessary support when doubts and insecurities arise?

What would I do with all of that extra time in the morning if a blonde ball of fluff did not demand to be played with?

What would I do with the excess in rest that would come if she ever decided to sleep in?

What would I do without jumps, excitement, and kisses to start my day?

What would I do without the knowledge that labs came in such cuddly sizes? Or that a small piece of shelving equipment can pass through the canine body with ease? Or that avocado rinds give man's best friend the worst gas known to mankind?

Oakley Ann truly is a gift; one I can no longer bear to live my life without. She is my best friend, my comforter, my source of laughter, my rest, my joy. She is everything I could want in a dog.

She's proved to be very much like Hershey Sue, loyal to a fault, somehow understanding despite the species gap, and obsessed with fetch. Though not as bright, I believe her legacy will live on in our home, just as her great-great-grandmother's did. Just as all our dogs do.

And to think, I didn't even want her.

"You did this to me."

As a Negative (N)ellie, this is a phrase I repeat often, (Almost as much as "no".) one I have been sending to the heavens over and over again as of late.

"You did this to me."

"Why did you to this to me?"

"Please stop doing this to me."

I've noticed that is how most changes and hard times go in my life. Kicking and screaming, I fight against the path the Lord is lovingly dragging me down, only to get to the other side where I must humbly admit He was right all along. He knows me well. He loves me well. He is aware of what is best.

Oakley Ann is a testament that the unwanted and the outright against can turn into some of our biggest blessings. Rather than fight it all the way there, wasting time, energy, and kisses from your best friend, let's try better to embrace the unknown.

We may not know what lies ahead, but He does. That is a bet I am willing to base a year's worth of dog tending on.