We got Charlie last fall. We’d been looking for a dog for a long time. We met so many at different rescue events over the course of a year. And then we met Charlie, and he stole our hearts. He’s a border collie, and we weren’t sure if we could give him everything he needs, expelling enough of his energy. We fostered him for few weeks to be sure we could give him a good life before we signed the adoption papers.

I’m a little amazed we did it. I think back to the dog Charlie was when we adopted him. He was wild and needy — desperate and anxious from having been shuffled between seven different homes. I’d have bruises from him jumping on me or playing too hard. He was still learning how to play after being raised mostly outdoors on a farm, away from his human family, so he’d want to wrestle but not know his limits — like a puppy learning his new world, but he was full-grown. He’d thrash unexpectedly and bust my lip. Or bite just a little too hard. Not breaking the skin, but leaving me black and blue.

But, my god, was he sweet. Part of what drew us to him was how happy he was to meet us. How eagerly he sat in our laps and showed us his belly. He still wants to meet everyone, to be everyone’s friend.

We saw how much work he was, but we saw beyond that. We saw the potential in him of the dog he would become. In the first few weeks of fostering him, he learned a bunch of commands. We were hesitant to sign up for obedience classes or anything before he was ours, but we also knew we needed help getting him under control.

And now, he’s quickly becoming an agility dog — another thing I didn’t know I’d ever be doing. I didn’t know I’d ever have a dog, because my mom and sister were both afraid of them. I wasn’t around them much. And then, I got to know more dogs, got to see how incredible they are, how lucky we are to be kindred species. One of the dog trainers at the Humane Society was shocked I hadn’t had a dog, because she couldn’t believe anyone would jump into a high-energy dog like a border collie. But now I’m becoming an agility handler, and I’m having the best time.

I love learning, and learning how to train a dog is opening new worlds to me.

We gather in an open meadow in the cool night air around a fire on a night when the moon’s so bright it casts a shadow.

I used to feel like I was back in the forest, the smell of smoke a nearby memory, the inviting cackles coming from a distance. The light of the fire and moon so obscured by the trees, I had to feel my way through the branches, get poked in the face a few times.

Now I stand in the circle, stoking the licking flames, stirring their heat as I would a cauldron. We dance and kick, we loose ourselves the world awhile.

And tomorrow, when we return to the churn, we smile coyly whenever we catch a scent of the lingering smoke in our hair.

Shifting shadows by a slatted wooden door. The family inside huddling together, shivering with fear, tears dripping down the children’s faces. If the creature outside wants in, it’ll come in. There’s nothing sturdy about this door. It’s only meant to keep out the cold.

Heavy breathing, scraping sounds. Rustling.  

And then nothing.

The family stays inside, what feels an unbearable stint, cowering and tense as they wait for its return. But it doesn’t come.

When they finally work up the courage to first glance outside, then open the door, they find that they’ve been marked. The door has three stripes scratched in it.