Sunny Days
The news started writing stories months ago about how animal shelters were running out of animals: one of the upsides to the pandemic, which is now in its sixth month in the United States. We have talked about getting a dog ever since Matthew met his first Golden Retriever. I would mention it to Steve and he would not get overly excited at the thought, frequently citing the business of our schedule and our frequent travel as a reason not to get one. But I knew how important it was to Matthew, and Jesse had talked about wanting a dog as well. As the pandemic continued, we started talking more seriously about it, and I was finally able to get Steve on board with an actual plan, a YES.
I had been following a rescue on Instagram called Wagmor; they are in Studio City and Ellen DeGeneris had plugged them on her page. Every day they would update their Inst to reflect the dogs currently available for adoption, and even though it was all the way up in LA I sort of got my heart set on the idea that we were going to adopt from the Wagmor. I followed other rescues and applied online to meet various dogs from local fosters but nothing came to fruition.
My birthday rolled around, and I decided to take the day off. It fell on a Monday this year, so it wasn't a hard choice. We debated how we would spend the day. Jesse was gone in Ohio spending time with Quin, who moved out there with Lana and Avery in June. It was just Steve and I and Matthew, and we have been stir crazy spending so much time at home. We decided to go whale watching. Then, we would drive up to Studio City to visit the Wagmor. Matthew and I were checking out one particular dog named Tink, a chi-terrier mix, who seemed to have a bubbly and sweet personality and looked larger than your average chihuahua.
Whale watching was amazing. Our boat was at maybe 50% capacity, and conditions were a bit choppy but mostly fair. We found a pair of grey whales and followed them for an hour or so. They breeched multiple times and put on a dazzling show. Our day was off to a magical start.
Then we hopped in the car and drove north. I discreetly checked my Instagram for directions to Wagmor, and much to my chagrin, I saw the announcement that Tink had been adopted earlier that same day. Matthew was so disappointed, but Steve reassured us - no joke - that he had already had a vision about all this, a deja vu, and that this was exactly as it was meant to be, and that we should not worry. We continued on the hour drive up to our destination.
Ellie had funny colored hair and helped us upon our arrival. She explained that they didn't have any hypo-allergenic dogs, but they did have a litter from Coachella Valley that were pomeranian-terrier mixes, and that their hair "tends to be more human-like." I told her I hesitated to adopt those dogs, that I had seen their post about the terrible hoarding situation from which some 50 dogs were rescued, where they had been packed into a trailer 10x20 and somehow living caked in their own feces. She assured us, although some of the dogs had health issues such as disfigurement and cataracts, there were still some in very good health. Then she ducked into the back and asked us to sit tight while she went to find a good one.
I was a bit anxious; I didn't want to have to say no but I was very skeptical that this was the right choice and I had tried to tell my self beforehand that this particular litter was off the table. But the way things unfolded after that, honestly, it just feels like it must have been meant to be.
Out comes Ellie, with Serrano in her arms. He was frozen stiff, tail low, hair trimmed short, expressionless, and too scared to move once he was placed in our laps. We petted him, and he let us. He didn't shake, but he just didn't move. We sat with him and petted him and talked to him and talked about him. Over the next few minutes, he started to relax a bit. Ellie went back to her desk and had a very specific plan; she had no intention of showing us any other dog unless we asked. But we didn't. Steve found that the fur wasn't coming off, and so he expressed he thought this dog would work (in regards to his allergies). Matthew liked him right away. I was still skeptical, but as time passed we did believe he was very sweet and gentle. Within 40 minutes of arriving, we were leaving with Sunny.
Although his name was still Serrano, as he was placed in the back seat of the Volt with Matthew. As the car started and we drove off, his mouth opened, and out came his tongue, and we all laughed; he looked so happy to be going to his forever home. It was then we recognized he had a perma-smile to the shape of his mouth, and we started talking about named. Even though Serrano was a nice name, it didn't hold meaning for us, and we thought he deserved something more endearing. Steve started looking up dog names on his phone. Once he said "Sunny" we all agreed, it suited him perfectly. He was adopted on a very bright, warm summer day. He had a natural smile and golden-white fur. Sunny was so happy to be going home with us.
And then he started throwing up. We could only speculate why. Illness from the rescue? Anxiety for leaving? What was it? It continued all the way home. By the time we got to Irvine, he was salivating/frothing at the mouth and utterly exhausted. We stopped at a greenbelt and gave him the opportunity to relieve himself, stretch, get some fresh air. But again he was frozen. Sunny behaved as though he had never been on a leash, never played outside, never even been outside the confines of indoor living spaces.
He was about to start a while new life with us, two years into his own. He didn't even know what he had been missing.
And we were ready to make him part of our family.