Oh, Milo. 

I have struggled to write Milo’s story and “introduce” him in the scope of this blog. Mostly because I feel like in order to tell his story, I have to revisit and acknowledge that Stella is gone. 

That’s still really hard. 

We’re right at a year for when everything began to unravel with her health and I still find myself failing to hold it together at the most random of times. I also question and doubt myself about that time, often wishing I had spent more time on the couch with her or taking her on walks that she loved and hated with the same amount of passion. 

I know that there’s no amount of time that would have been the right amount of time to process letting her go – but it doesn’t make it easier.

That stubborn, 65-pounds of fluff made her mark on my world in a way I never expected, and I’ll forever be a better person because of it. 

Those fresh feelings and open wounds of loss made me very doubtful for bringing another dog into my life… at least during any time frame that could constitute as too soon. Getting used to four less legs tapping along my hardwood floors wasn’t easy and I’m not sure I really completed that phase of grief. Regardless, I wasn’t sure I wanted to do the whole “get a dog” thing all over again. 

Getting another dog meant all of the fun that comes with a puppy, but also all of the heartache for if something went wrong down the road.

The fact that it has taken me almost 8 months to write about it is probably a metaphor for how hesitant I was.  

But on a random day in April, I was scrolling through Facebook when this very large, floppy-eared puppy was posted on a local vet’s page. I’m honestly not sure what it was… but I knew. 

That sounds cliche, but it’s true. I also knew that it wouldn’t be long before he was scooped up by someone else.

I sent his photo and the post to Matt with “I want him. He’s meant to be mine.” And before I knew it, messages were swapped and Matt went by the vet to get the paperwork started. 

Within two days, this very timid puppy was brought to my house. He sniffed around for a bit and then immediately crawled in my lap like he belonged there. His foster home said that he had been the most timid of the litter and hadn’t connected with too many. But somehow, he knew I was his. 

He crashed on the couch between myself and Matt his first night at the house and went FAST to sleep. It was the sweetest darn thing, but y’all… it was the defining calm before the storm. 

And by storm, I mean Milo came in like a friggin’ wrecking ball. 

Wild Wild Milo

I have not been shy about how Milo has been his own version of a holy terror. He has not been a low-maintenance puppy. 

His momma was 100% Siberian Husky, and while we’re not totally sure what dad was – he definitely has the genes of both Australian and German Shepherds.

He looks like no other dog I’ve ever seen and his energy levels are over the top – always.

Because what do you get with the possibility of three working breeds wound up in the most awkwardly shaped body?

Milo. You get Milo. 

I’ll pause here to say that Stella spoiled me. She was THE VERY BEST PUPPY. 

Because she was fostered for a lengthy amount of time, she came to me potty trained. She was six months old when I transitioned her from the crate to free roam the house throughout the day.

I was worried I wouldn’t get that lucky again.

Aaaaand, I was right. 

Milo peed on anything and everything – EVERYTHING – for the first three months I had him.

He destroys every toy he is given. He loves one toy the most – but has ripped (literally) through three of them.

And while he does sleep all night and is very lazy in the morning, he is ready. to. go. at night. 

It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t mind us. We’re just surviving instead of thriving. 

For example: As I’m writing this from the couch – snuggled under a blanket ready to call it a night – the little terror just ripped through my living room from being outside – in the rain – drenched with muddy paws.

He jumped all over the couch. And, when I used all the dang words to imply “GET THE **** OFF MY COUCH AND CALM DOWN,” it only ramped him up even more. 

He thought it was a fun game of chase… all while leaving muddy paw marks all over everything. 

It’s at this point where I picked up the phone and told Matt to come get his dog. This isn’t the first time these words have been sent to him.

It’s not all bad.

I’m not exaggerating when I say I have said more curse words and thought twice about bringing him home several times over. But, it’s really not THAT bad (maybe – most days at least).

He has slowly morphed into the sweetest (when he wants to be) and gentlest of giants. 

He loves super big and makes me laugh when I don’t even realize I need to. 

Daily, he’s growing into his own personality – strong willed – but his own, nonetheless. And, when I’m not looking… he does what I need him to. 

He’s finally housebroken (mostly – thankfully). 

He lets me know when he wants something, or really when he disagrees. He’s very vocal – and “No!” seems to be his trigger word.

He sits, shakes, gives high fives and rolls over.

He goes straight to his kennel (most days) when it’s time for me to go to work. 

And! He’s really, really good with other people.

He’s not a fan of “No” and “Off” just yet, but I have high hopes that we’ll get there… maybe… eventually. 

At 9 months old, he’s tipped the scale of 50lbs and his head finally grew into his ears. His body is trying really hard to catch up to his head, but we’ve still got some time on that one. 

Apparently, he’s no where near being done on the growth scale.

[send help]

Grief is weird, but joy is not.

Losing Stella is still one of the hardest things I’ve had to do as an adult. Processing those emotions wasn’t easy (still isn’t).

Opening my heart and home to another dog somehow felt traitorous. Like I was erasing her memory somehow.

Honest? It took me awhile to realize that nothing could do that. 

It also took me a minute to know I could still lean into being sad about Stella when it happens from time to time, but still laugh at something Milo did. One didn’t cancel out the other or have to exist a part from each other.

Because even beyond the grave, Stella is teaching me all the things.

If anything, I’m beginning to believe that Milo was a part of Stella’s masterplan to pay me back for every walk I made her go on or for every time I woke her up from her slumber. 

This whole thing has definitely been its own adjustment and has come with a steep learning curve, but the joy he has provided is new (and welcomed).

I’m grateful.

Despite the lessons learned and ALL OF THE FEELINGS, I am 110% convinced that there are few things that compare to the feeling of coming home after a long day to a dog who doesn’t care about anything more than ear scratches, belly rubs and a stroll around the neighborhood.

Lucky for me, Milo loves all three. And with the path of persistence we’re currently traveling, I’m sure he will be a part of life lessons (especially in the patience category) for years to come.