As with many modern-day romances, my husband and I first met Merle online. We were scrolling through Petfinder, and came across a photo of a dumpling-shaped, impossibly adorable puppy named Limo. A few emails later, we learned Limo was unavailable, but that he had a brother named Charlos. Pictures of Charlos revealed a similarly-shaped, equally irresistible beagle mix with a heart-breaking backstory. Charlos and his litter mates had been abandoned outside of a kill shelter in New Jersey and were awaiting rescue. We jumped into action and within two days my husband was en route back from Passaic, nervously texting me at traffic lights to let me know that Charlos (who we renamed Merle) didn’t love his crate and would not stop crying. When they finally arrived in Brooklyn, they were both exhausted, ravenous, and desperately in need of a hug. After a few more nights of crate, whimper, hug, repeat, Merle settled in and began the process of taking over our lives (and hearts) almost completely. He did the usual destructive puppy things (eating pillows, tearing apart his housebreaking pads), but instantly made up for it with the usual lovely puppy things (falling asleep in our laps, letting us pat his perfectly round belly for hours at a time, barking at his own tail). It’s been almost three years since we brought him home, and Merle is now a 60 pound teenager, who (in true teenage fashion) loves naps, food, being loud, and visiting friends. He might not have been the first puppy we spotted that day, but he is unmistakably ours, and we are so lucky to have him.
As told to by Jayna Maleri