The first two years of college move-ins filled me with anxiety. The prospect of a new roommate, new dormitory and new neighbors who would blast Vanessa Carlton’s “A Thousand Miles” for hours on end was something to dread as summer came to its close.
But, as the summer before junior year ticked by, there was a certain pep in my step. Maybe it was because I would be living with close friends in an on-campus apartment. Maybe it was because we’d gotten an on-campus apartment, and I didn’t have to worry about wearing flip-flops to the shower and could make my own meals.
Let’s be real, though—I was excited about the dog.
One of my roommates completed the proper paperwork to ensure that a support dog could join us in the spacious apartment, and she sent us pictures over the summer. The dog was the size of my cat, and had the most terrifyingly human eyes I’d ever seen.
I immediately fell in love.
My roommates (apartment-mates? Apartmates?) moved in the week before me, and not being able to meet the dog with them was frustrating. So when I opened the door on move-in day and a brown and white bundle came bounding over, I nearly fell over and cried.
Oliver, or “Ollie” for short, is an eight-month-old Yorkie or Jack Terrier (we have no idea) with warm brown eyes and a passion for playing with toys that are far too big for his mouth. His beloved tennis ball will probably give him lockjaw at least once, but it’ll be the happiest lockjaw experience ever.
I’ll be up front about this—I’m a cat person. My baby at home, Leah, is a super fat, super fluffy kitty who loves to sleep on my lap and watch me read. But living with Ollie has been such a great experience, and I’m starting to see why dog people are dog people.
Unlike Leah, who tries to escape the house as soon as the door cracks open, Ollie is there to greet the person who opened it. Whenever I come home from class, he jumps up on my leg and wags his stubby tail. Every time I look at him, and he gives me that warm look back, I feel like crying. That’s right—nothing has changed from move-in.
He loves squeaky toys, too, to the extent that I’m surprised we haven’t gotten a noise complaint. Ollie sprints around with a cow squeaky toy in his mouth and chews on it like it’s a whole pack of Juicy Fruit.
There’s something cathartic in having a pet in the apartment. The stresses of college seem to melt away when a furry face greets you at the door. In the case of Ollie, who loves to follow us around and cuddle, it’s the kind of unconditional love that fills your heart and makes dealing with homework and studying so much easier.
In previous years, E-town has allowed dogs to come on campus for de-stress events (and, in fact, one lives in the Communications Department). I can’t articulate just how many people would schedule their days around these rare events, nor can I articulate the pure awe on the faces of students walking into the library with no idea that it was a dog day. Those occasions brought pure happiness to so many students, and will continue to do so.
Of course, I’ll still go and see my favorite of the visiting dogs, but having one in my own apartment is even better. I can give daily nose-boops and head scratches, play with floppy ears and throw tennis balls.
Having an apartment pet is more helpful than any stress ball or relaxing piece of music; animals provide love and affection that, sometimes, college just doesn’t offer.
I guess I’ll be FaceTiming my cat a little less this year.