Dear Universe

My nineteen years have been filled with quite a bit of doubt and apathy towards the idea of a higher being, the idea that maybe I don't have as much control of my life as I'd like. Yet one day, You'd had enough and You saw fit to show me how much You existed, how much You really did have a finger in my life, and how it was ok if I didn't always understand.

No, You didn't punish me. You set me up on a blind date.

I remember surprisingly clearly, given that so much of my life has been lived in a fog. I remember that our German Shepherd runt which we had so long regarded as a puppy, now lay by the tree in the side yard dying of old age. Sierra had survived birth, Parvo, a life long supply of ear infections, and multiple come uppances with the local crawdads. And early Easter morning, Sierra passed, before her mother but still having lived a long, teenage life.

Normally looking for a dog wasn't my family's style. Normally we would have accepted the passing of our very old dog and move on to take care of the two remaining ones; the last German Shephard of our pack, the devoted mother and wife of our dogs, and our rambunctious Labrador, little more than a puppy. Yet no one questioned why we so automatically got on the computer Easter morning and started browsing the animal shelter's website.

That's where You first made your appearance, Universe. Browsing through pages and pages of beautiful, well-behaved dogs, and for some reason you saw fit to stop me on a Big Brown Dog. There was nothing terribly special about him, just big and brown. But I knew he was the one.

When we went into the animal shelter the next day, my heart broke when they told us that there was no way we would find my Big Brown Dog without a serial number, which I had of course forgotten to write down. This was a no-kill shelter, and there were acres and acres of dogs begging to be loved.

You wouldn't let me be though, Universe, and for that I am so grateful. While my family went back to browse the kennels all in order, one by one, I wandered. The second kennel I walked into, there he was. I never looked back from there. As he cowered in the corner of his kennel, I knew he was mine. As we put the leash on him and he dragged me into the courtyard, I knew he was mine. Even as we fought tangles in the leash as he tumbled with our Lab, I knew he was mine.

To this day, there is nothing out of the ordinary about this dog. He's my Big Brown Dog. He's got a ridge on his back which I affectionately dub his mohawk, and he's sweet as sugar. As I write this, he sleeps beside me, underneath my hot pink baby blanket, and twitches at the occasional dream of a rabbit or a cat. Maybe he even dreams about me. I don't really think my Big Brown Dog and I are changing the world, or anything magnificent as that, but I love him and he loves me, and at the end of the day that's what really counts.

So I guess this is a thank you letter, Universe. This is a thank you for helping me be a healthier and happier person. This is a thank you for bringing me together with my soul mate, who has on more than one occasion saved my life.

Thank you for my Big Brown Dog.