Three Years of Samwise

On December 24, 2022, I brought home a puppy: a miniature schnauzer I named Samwise, after a certain selfless Hobbit gardener who helped destroy great evil.

That day was the culmination of months of planning and years of yearning. I’d wanted a dog of my own since my family’s dog Josie died when I was in eleventh grade.

I wasn’t responsible for caring for Josie. She was a “family dog,” but my parents did most of the work. I never had a pet of my own growing up, though my siblings had hamsters, gerbils, and guinea pigs at different times.

I knew, though, that if I wanted a dog, I would need to be living independently in a place that allows pets. My first apartment didn’t allow them, so I had to wait.

In 2021, I was house hunting during the time of rock-bottom interest rates. One of the things I knew I wanted was a decent-size backyard so I could get a dog and let him run around and play freely. I found a house with a yard and moved in September 2021. But it took a while to get to the point of actually purchasing a dog, partly because I changed jobs only a few months into owning my house and I wanted to be more financially stable.

At this new job, I worked with two other young adults who also wanted dogs. Dog ownership became a frequent topic of discussion as we worked together.

Our dog ownership dreams came together almost like a pact, because we all got puppies in one nine-month span of time. First, one of my coworkers bought a whippet puppy in the spring. A few months later my other coworker bought a miniature schnauzer puppy.

Part of the reason I was the last of us to get a dog was I didn’t know what breed to choose. Also, I had a lot of anxiety about my ability to take care of a furball. I wasn’t sure what type of dog I could handle, especially since I stay fairly busy.

I visited the local animal shelter, but none of those dogs stood out to me. Eventually I decided I wanted a dog that didn’t shed, and for a few months, I was planning to buy a goldendoodle from a church friend. Then that plan fell through.

The same questions arose again: what kind of dog do I want, and can I even care for a puppy?

A couple times during these months, I briefly considered getting a cat instead. However, I’ve never been as enthusiastic about cats (nor they about me), and getting a cat just wouldn’t have been the same as getting a dog.

I then met my coworker’s miniature schnauzer puppy and decided in that moment that I wanted one too. I wasn’t likely to find a miniature schnauzer at an animal shelter, so I started shopping through the American Kennel Club website until I found one I liked. The timing was perfect. I could get the dog during the holidays, so I would have a full week of vacation time to acclimate to dog dad-hood.

The whole process by that time had thoroughly stressed me out. I was overthinking like crazy (an unfortunate tendency of mine). Worst-case scenarios haunted my mental attic. What if my dog won’t potty train correctly and I have to constantly clean up messes? Or what if I come home one day to find my furniture ripped to shreds? What if I have difficulty training him?

The thoughts built up to the point that I nearly had a panic attack one evening a few weeks before getting him. It was then that I realized I had to let go of my fear of the unknown, surrender the anxiety to Jesus, and just jump in.

And jump in I did. I visited the breeder and met the puppy. Then, on Christmas Eve 2022, I took him home. Samwise the nine-week-old miniature schnauzer puppy toddled into the house and began a new life for himself, me, and my roommate (who has helped a lot with caring for him when I’m unavailable).

Most of those nights for about two weeks, I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep: Sam needed to be taken outside every few hours during the night. The night of Christmas Eve, the temperature even dropped to a record low in my area that hadn’t been seen in decades, and so I had to brave two-degree-Fahrenheit weather while waiting for Samwise to relieve himself. Christmas Day I was in a haze because of sleep deprivation.

But I made it through, praise God! And Sam the puppy only destroyed a couple pieces of my clothing with his sharp little teeth.

Over time, I learned how to care for him. I crate-trained him from Night One, which, though it was tough at times, was a great first decision. I had a fence installed so I wouldn’t have to keep taking him outside on a leash. I got him his shots at the vet. I started taking him on walks. I played with him however I could. I got him groomed. I watched him grow. Over time his color changed from dark brown and grey to white, tan, and light grey.

I eventually also got him professionally trained, and everyone who takes care of him whenever I’m out of town or at work talks about how well-behaved he is. I don’t think I could ask for a better dog.

And now his three-year Gotcha Day is this Wednesday! These days, at three years old, Sam is a reasonably calm dog (though he also has excitable moments). He likes to lay on the couch with me: curled up in my lap while under a blanket or under my bathrobe, or lying across my shoulders along the back of the couch while I’m sitting there (which he’s doing as I edit this post). He likes to chew on toy bones and chase squeaky balls. He loves going for walks and sniffing absolutely everything.

Getting a dog changed my life in ways I couldn’t have expected. I’m no longer able to just get up and go somewhere without making a plan for his care, but I’m also greeted enthusiastically every time I walk in the door, tail wags and kisses galore. I bonded with him through training and playing, and he has provided great relief from anxiety, stress, and even depression. My phone camera roll is now filled with photos and videos of him. I’ve learned a lot about grace and doing hard things from him, and I wouldn’t trade those lessons for the world.

This week, I’m grateful for my dog. And I’m pretty sure he’s grateful for me, too!