Roxy the Editorial Assistant
On April 18, 2016, we adopted Roxy. For four years, she’s been my shadow and my partner in crime. Since I’ve gone full-time freelance, she’s also been my editorial assistant and #StetPet. She’s not too well-versed in responding to client emails, balancing the books, or filing, but she excels at reminding me when it’s time to take a break and motivating me to go on #StetWalks. I decided to share the story of how Roxy came into our lives because it’s not your typical pet adoption story. I know it’s not really related to writing or editing, but it’s related to my life and therefore my editing business, so I think it counts.
I was working in a long-term memory care community, where part of the philosophy was how animals can enrich the lives of those with Alzheimer’s and dementia. We had a policy where we had to have one dog and one cat per twenty-five residents. At the time, we had enough cats but needed a few more dogs to fulfill the requirement. I had a social work intern (Anne) who wanted to find some dogs for our community to adopt so we could meet the quota. She looked at websites for the Humane Society, local shelters, and wanted ads. She found a listing on a local site, where an owner had to find a new home for her two dogs because she was moving somewhere she couldn’t take them. Anne arranged for this person to bring her dogs to the community to see if they would be a good fit. We met with the woman and her two dogs. One dog was quiet, and the other was loud and aggressive. We immediately determined that the loud, aggressive dog would not work out. The quiet dog, however, had the type of demeanor we were looking for in a community dog. Her name was Roxy.
Anne helped Roxy acclimate to the community, showing her the food and water bowls, giving her her prescription ear drops, and taking her out to the courtyards. Because Anne and I shared an office, Roxy would often spend time in there with us. She seemed to be adjusting, but after some time (I can’t remember if it was days or weeks), her separation anxiety was becoming more apparent. She would get anxious at night when Anne wasn’t around, and she would bark at the staff and residents. Eventually, it was determined that Roxy would probably do better in a home environment with a family rather than in a place where faces were constantly changing.
The new challenge became finding a good home for her. Anne and I thought we’d start by seeing if any of our coworkers were interested in adopting her. We were sitting in my office, trying to think of who might want to take her home. As we were brainstorming, I said, “If I were looking for a dog, she’d be pretty perfect. She’s house-trained and well-behaved, and she knows me. But I’m not looking for a dog.” Anne gasped and said, “You should adopt her!” I laughed and brushed it off, but then I started thinking about it. We talked about all the ways in which it would be a perfect fit. In addition to being house-trained, Roxy was four years old at the time and hadn’t displayed any destructive behavior, we had space in our house and a backyard, and Roxy could still come to work with me (associates were allowed to bring their dogs to work if they were well-behaved). I kept wavering, but eventually I became excited by the idea.
The only problem was that I’d have to convince my husband, who also happened to be out of town on a work trip at that time. I called him while I was still at work and said, “You know Roxy, the new dog at work? How would you feel about adopting her?” He was shocked. We had talked in vague terms about wanting a dog someday, but nothing like this. He was hesitant but not completely opposed. His one request was that he meet her before officially deciding to adopt her, which meant I had to wait for him to return from his trip two days later before bringing her home. I’m not a patient person, especially when I get an idea in my head, so the wait was agony. I survived, though, and I brought her home. They immediately took to one another, and she became part of our family.
I worked at the community for 3.5 more years, and she went to work with me almost every day. She would usually stay with me, but she would also run off to find her favorite people. She would also scrounge for food, and she was fed WAY too much food by the residents or by my coworkers. It’s a big place, so there were some nights when I’d spend twenty minutes looking for her so we could go home, only to find her sneaking food or following one of her favorites. People would call her my shadow, and they often knew where to find me based on where she was (including when I was in the bathroom because she was sitting outside the door). Even now, with my side job as a hospice social worker, I go into that community and bring her with me. It’s still her second home.
At home with us, she has the run of the place. She has three beds in strategic spots around the house and too many toys. Most of the photos I take are of her. She’s had some medical issues lately, and we’ve done whatever we can for her to stay healthy and happy. She’s 8.5 years old now, and I’m dreading the inevitable. I’m hoping she has many more good years left, but I’m still just snuggling her as much as I can and soaking up all the time I have with her. I always thought dogs were cute, but I never had one before Roxy. I worried about dogs being too expensive, limiting my ability to travel, and getting their hair everywhere. Despite that, she was the right dog for me and for us. Those things are definitely true (especially the part about her hair being everywhere), but it’s all worth it to have her in our family. We’re better for it.
Update: Roxy crossed the Rainbow Bridge on February 7, 2022. I wrote a tribute to her called “What My Dog Taught Me About Running an Editing Business.”
