Nora's Story
It's safe to say that I didn't find Nora, she definitely found me. I wouldn't say I disliked small dogs, but they were certainly not on my radar as far potential pet adoptions went. In fact, when I met Nora - I wasn't looking to add a member to my family at all. I always liked big dogs - Husky's, Malamutes - something I could see gallivanting slope-side with me on the mountain. I figured when I was ready I would find a rescue who suited the vision I had, and we'd live happily ever after.
I started working at Granary Row in July of 2013. Granary Row was essentially an experimental setup that featured pop-up shops, food trucks, and music; along with the outdoor biergarten I worked at, simply set up on the street. The Utah Humane Society had a spot there, and I always encouraged them to wander with their animals to where the love and libations were aflow, hoping we could foster some interest. As an avid animal lover, I also didn't mind breaking up the monotony of pouring beer with puppy play time.
As a collective whole the employees at Granary would also take dogs for periods of time, just to get them outside their cages. This is how Nora happened onto the biergarten. My friend Adam who owned a small record store down there had Nora nuzzled in his sweater, and I just remember she looked so timid and scared. I reached out to pet her and without a second thought she jumped from his arms to mine and made it clear that I was her new home.
I kind of laughed, she looked like some kind of Chihuahua mix and was not particularly my dog-breed cup of tea, but I entertained it. She was terrified of almost everyone and everything but me, so I let her stay the night with me - joking that she was the new Uinta biergarten mascot. At the end of the night, I felt a pang - I didn't want to say goodbye to her. Kendall, the lovely Humane society ambassador, promised he would bring her back the next night. And he did. He also brought her back the night after, and again - the weekend after that. Maybe he had a master plan, and maybe he didn't. One night it started to rain and I frantically made a bed for Nora on a wooden shelf inside of our bar. I wanted her to be warm and comfortable, she snuggled right in and I remember looking in her all to big Chihuahua eyes and thinking, "I'm screwed, this dog belongs to me." I formally adopted her a day later. She's been with me now roughly three months but it feels like a lifetime. She lies curled beside me as I write this and I can't even begin to imagine that I lived a life without her in it. The first few weeks she could barely leave my ankles as we walked; she was literally unable to leave my peripheral vision and ultimately unsure of herself. Caterpillar to butterfly she now is confident, courageous, and not scared to run off into the unknown - hikes mountains and trails like a champ. She's been enjoying the snowfall and she changes everyday.
Sometimes when we're walking in the woods together, something we love to do together, I ask her where she came from. It all seems so new to her - I didn't know anything about her when I adopted her. I wonder - who were her people? What did they do with her? How could they ever give such a sweet little soul away? Did they not take her for walks in the woods? She loves it so much.
While I ponder, I also just take it for what it is. My friends laugh at me; never assuming I would end up with a dog I could tuck away in a backpack or purse. But she makes friends with everyone - she loves a good lap to cuddle up in and she's not picky. I really cannot imagine my existence without Nora as my right hand lady - she is an extension of me and vice versa. Until I found my little beast I did not know what it meant that they find you, but they do - they really, really do. We found one another.