We all think we have a unique origin story – something that will really stand out when someone says “So, tell me about yourself. Where are you from?” My memories of the earlier years of my life are as fuzzy as a dream you can’t remember 2 minutes after you wake up. You know it happened, and you know you WANT to recall the details, but it just escapes you. So, I can’t tell you a thing. Where am I from? Your guess is as good as mine. All you really need to know about me is I’m tough as nails and I will hurt you despite wanting nothing more than to be loved. Since you seem to be curious, I will tell you what I can – starting with what was likely the most important day of my life. 

It was springtime, and so many scents wafted through the air on a gentle breeze early that morning. The sharp essence of pine mingled with delicately sweet magnolia. The warm smell of the earth comforted me in the makeshift nest I had been sleeping in since the second night. Sounds great, right? Except it wasn’t. Even without memories of life before the woods, I’m pretty sure I was never a fan of the outdoors. Yet there I was – in the middle of 10,000 acres of primitive forest, completely alone. It had been a rough few weeks out in the woods. At least, I think it was weeks, but it could’ve been months. The trifecta of malnutrition, exhaustion, and fear made it nearly impossible to track the passing of time. All I can say is I didn’t have much life left in me the night before, and I didn’t expect to wake up that day.  As a matter of fact, I recall hoping I wouldn’t wake up at all. These days, I spend a lot of time trying to remember exactly how I ended up there. I spend even more time contemplating how I managed to survive. 

Saying I was all alone in the forest is not exactly accurate. The expected occupants of most forests were present – coyotes, birds, snakes, the occasional bear. I was no Snow White and none of them were my friends. I still can’t believe I wasn’t eaten by the coyotes at some point. I think one may have tried, or maybe my leg was nearly caught in a bear trap, or maybe I was hit by a car. How I ended up with a severely broken leg is one of what I refer to as the “unsolved mysteries of the woods”. Another of the mysteries is how I didn’t starve to death. I don’t possess any special knowledge of edible flora so I just kind of ate what looked like it might not kill me – leaves, a few berries that I noticed some rabbits were eating, some strange looking brown mushrooms that were definitely of questionable safety. It wasn’t much but it did keep me alive. Fortunately, once my body became accustomed to having almost no food, the hunger kind of just went away. 

That particular morning (the one when I didn’t expect to wake up) was the day after I ingested one of the questionable mushrooms. I was awoken partially by the breeze and partially by the sound of non-forest creature sounds. I hadn’t heard any human sounds in so long, it actually startled me. For reasons I didn’t fully understand, I wanted to get up and run away but there was no energy for that. It took a minute to realize I didn’t need to run because this person may be able help me. I laid there thinking I should stand up or make a sound, any sound, but I just couldn’t. My body was heavy as a pile of wet concrete and my voice was completely gone. I was just too weak to do anything to help myself. I knew this was probably my last chance for survival, yet all I did was lay there, praying that I hadn’t done a very good job at concealing myself. 

I was fading in and out, only semi-conscious. The footsteps were getting closer. I tried and tried to will myself to move, and I imagined that this is what being paralyzed would feel like. My exhaustion was like a tranquilizer that I could no longer fight the effects of, and my eyes closed once again. When they opened next, my blurred gaze fell on a man standing maybe ten feet away from me. A tall man, dressed in camouflage from head to toe, carrying a gun. He looked dangerous but nearly jumped out of his boots when I looked at him. Judging by the look in his eyes, he was probably more scared than I was. It didn’t matter either way since I was pretty sure this was the day I was going to die. How I was going to die was kind of irrelevant, so I closed my eyes and drifted off again.  

Over the next several hours I came in and out of consciousness, deep in the throes of what felt much like a fever dream. Once, upon waking, he was standing over me with his pistol in hand. At some point I heard him talking on the phone. Next, I remember being in his truck and he was offering me a sip of water. Then I slept for a long time. In spite of being basically kidnapped by a gun-toting stranger, it was the first peaceful sleep I could recall having. I still didn’t know what his intentions were, but I didn’t care. I was satisfied with knowing I didn’t have to worry about being torn apart by wild animals. 

After hours of driving, we arrived at what I assumed was his home. We were in a pretty busy neighborhood, so I started to relax. How nefarious could his intentions be, here in the daylight with some ragtag kids riding their bikes down the street? Then, I heard the voice of a woman approaching the truck. She wasn’t close enough for me to make out what she was saying, but the man replied, “Maybe I should’ve just put him out of his misery.” That’s when I opened my eyes and saw the lady looking directly at me. She had the lightest eyes, which were the most interesting mix of blue-green-grey. Based on the worry I could see in her eyes, I must have looked a mess, even though she tried to disguise it with a soft smile. The kind of smile you put on to give a bit of confidence to someone who is just about to die. I wasn’t expecting her to touch me, but she reached out and gently put her hand on the side of my face and said, “Oh, he’s going to be just fine.” At that moment, I thought “If I had a mom, I would want one just like her.” 

That was 12 years ago. The lady with the soft smile and the camo man are now my family. It has been a long road, recovering from the physical injuries and dealing with the emotional scars from not knowing why I was left in the woods. Why did my family leave me there all alone to die? Sometimes, when they think I’m sleeping, I hear mom and dad talking about what they think might have happened. I don’t care about that because I can’t imagine having a better family. I have a lot of emotional and behavioral issues that have affected their lives. Still, they have shown me true unconditional love when anyone else would have given up a thousand times. I know I haven’t been the best dog they’ve ever had, but I love them so very much and I’m so lucky I was strong enough to wake up that morning.