Brown (and blue) eyed girl
Courtesy of Kristin Andreassi
Kristin Andreassi holds 8-week-old Mabel during the car ride home.
Courtesy of Kristin Andreassi
Jon Andreassi and Mabel, now 2 years old
It really seemed like the best time for us to get a dog during the early days of the pandemic.
My wife, Kristin, and I both started working from home in March 2020, and our social life was mostly contained to the tiny boxes of a Zoom call.
We had always wanted a dog but worried we would not be able to commit the time necessary to give it the life it deserved. In 2020, we had nothing but time.
May 13 was the day we picked up Mabel, our miniature Australian shepherd, from a farm in Ohio. The first thing I noticed about her was her bright, blue eye. That didn’t show in the picture we saw online, and it just made her that much cuter. She was just 8 weeks old and weighed about six pounds.
May 15 was when I got swept up in a round of COVID-related layoffs at the Observer-Reporter. (No hard feelings! And I returned to my job last June.)
Thinking back, I’m glad that is how it happened. If those dates had been reversed, we would have eaten our deposit and left Mabel on the farm. As two weeks turned into two years, Mabel kept a bleak world bright.
For those who don’t know much about Australian shepherds, a popular meme among owners of these rascals sums up an Aussie from the age of 4 to 36 months as being in its “velociraptor phase.”
It’s certainly not without merit. Mabel’s energy levels are off the charts. Losing my job might have been a small blessing because I couldn’t take my eyes off her. If she was out of sight, something in the house was being destroyed by either her razor-sharp puppy teeth or the contents of her bladder.
While Kristin grew up in a houseful of dogs, raising Mabel was an entirely new experience for me. It was frustrating, for sure, and I let my temper get the better of me when my fourth pair of pants was ripped.
As difficult as the first month or so could be, I came to find that Mabel was not all that hard to train. She just turned 2 on Friday, and her velociraptor phase is well behind her. She’s still crazy, but the endearing kind of crazy only a dog can achieve.
We say that Mabel has a big personality. She has a face of a million expressions and wears her emotions on her proverbial sleeve. Anyone who has met her can tell she is genuinely a pandemic puppy. Mabel is quite clingy and loves to snuggle. She prefers to be as close as she can possibly get. Kristin likes to say, “If she could crawl inside your skin, she would.”
Her greatest gift to me, though, has been her infinite happiness and unconditional love. Whenever things felt bleak, Mabel’s permanent smile reminds me that things are never quite as bad as they seem.
I spent a lot of time in the summer of 2020 sitting on my couch sending out resumes. Rejection hurt. Even when I knew the job wouldn’t be the right fit, it would have been nice to, at the very least, get an interview.
Then I would look at Mabel, and she was all smiles.
Beyond the strain of being out of work, the general chaos of 2020 brought its own stress. Seeing the daily tweet about how many thousands have died from COVID-19 sandwiched between inane arguments about the social media controversy du jour made me deeply pessimistic and cynical.
Then I would look at Mabel, and she was all smiles.
By far, my worst moment as a dog owner came while I was walking Mabel around the Brookline neighborhood of Pittsburgh, where we used to live. I caught out of the corner of my eye a dog much bigger than Mabel burst through a home’s storm door, making a beeline for Mabel. Before I could even react, the dog was on top of Mabel, and she screamed in pain.
It seemed to happen in slow motion, though in reality, it took about 10 seconds. I stood there, nearly paralyzed, until I saw Mabel limping and dripping blood into the middle of the street.
The dog’s owner was incredibly gracious and apologetic. She gave me a ride home and took care of the vet bills.
I hurried Mabel into the car and immediately drove her to the closest emergency animal hospital. It wasn’t my best moment. My anxiety took over. I was practically hyperventilating as I drove, tears welling up in my eyes.
Then I looked back at Mabel, and she was all smiles.
Mabel has made a deep impact on our lives and my experience with her was what inspired me to share my story.
We all sought normalcy during a difficult time, and for many of us that meant welcoming a furry friend into our families. Their capacity for love and ignorance of the chaos around them made them the perfect pandemic companions.