The Yes We Didn’t Plan

For a long time, getting a dog just wasn’t something we seriously considered. It came up here and there, mostly because our son kept asking, but it always felt like one of those ideas that made more sense in theory than in reality. We could list off all the reasons it wasn’t practical without even thinking about it. Our schedules, the cost, the responsibility, the impact on travel, and everything that comes with the puppy stage that no one really glamorizes when you’re the one living it.

At the same time, as parents of an only child, we’re constantly aware of how much effort goes into building connection and companionship for our son into his world. There are playdates, activities, and moments we try to create for him, but there’s also an understanding that some things just can’t be replicated in the same way. Having something consistent at home, something that’s his, that’s always there, started to feel less like an extra and more like something meaningful.

The idea of getting a dog had actually been sitting quietly in the back of my mind for a while before we made it real. It wasn’t a sudden decision, but more of a slow shift in perspective. We started to look at it differently, not as an added burden, but as something that could bring value to our family in a way we couldn’t fully measure yet. So we made the decision to surprise our son for Christmas, knowing full well it would change our day-to-day in ways we couldn’t entirely predict.

In early February, that surprise showed up in the form of a tiny Yorkshire Terrier named Jasper.

What I didn’t expect was how much this decision would reflect everything else that had been unfolding in our lives over the past year.

2025 was one of the most significant periods of change I’ve gone through in a long time. I left my role at the County, we moved into our dream home, and I stepped into a new position that, that ended up not being a good mood, resulting in me immediately leaving after two months. But it led to something I hadn’t given myself in years, which was time to pause and pivot.

I took five months to step back, to slow down, and to actually think about what I wanted next instead of rushing into the next logical move. And I started writing. A lot. This very blog has been cathartic for me in so many ways and I hope it has been for some of you as well. That pivot allowed me to reset in a way I didn’t even realize I needed. It also brought me to a new role that I genuinely love, one that feels aligned in a way that makes sense now looking back on all the steps it took to get here.

Somewhere in the middle of all of that, we said yes to something we had spent years talking ourselves out of (and let me preface this by saying, my husband didn’t have animals growing up, so he never knew what we was missing).

What I’ve realized is that the decision to get Jasper wasn’t separate from everything else, it was part of the same shift. It came at a time when we had stopped trying to control every outcome and started allowing things to unfold a little more naturally. We weren’t overanalyzing it to the point of talking ourselves out of it. We just trusted that it might be the right time and moved forward.

Jasper has brought a kind of energy into our home that is hard to describe unless you own a pet. There’s a simplicity to it, a presence that pulls you out of whatever is going on in your head and brings you back into the moment. He has a way of creating connection without effort, whether it’s the way he curls up beside you or the way he follows us around, always glued to our heels, like he’s the centre of his world.

And then there’s my husband, who, for most of our relationship, was firmly in the camp of not being an animal person. Watching that shift has been one of the most unexpected and honestly one of the best parts of this experience. There’s a softness there now that wasn’t there before, and it shows up in the smallest, most ordinary moments.

Of course, it hasn’t been without its challenges. There are routines to adjust to, responsibilities to manage, and moments where we question our timing, usually in the middle of the night when the dog cries out needing to relieve his bladder. But those moments pass quickly, and what’s left is something that feels far more meaningful than the inconveniences we were so focused on before.

When I look back on this past year, none of it unfolded the way I would have planned it. There were moments of uncertainty, decisions that felt uncomfortable at the time, and stretches where I wasn’t entirely sure where things were heading.

But standing where I am now, it all fits together in a way that makes sense.

The career changes, the pause, the reset, the new beginning, and even the dog we said no to for so long all feel like they were part of the same story. Not the one I would have carefully mapped out, but the one that was meant to happen.

And for the first time in a long time, I’m not trying to get ahead of it or figure out what comes next. I’m just letting it be what it is and soaking it in.