I’m Oakley, the one and only. “Woof, woof, woof,” is my signature move to say, “Hey, who are you, and why are you in my house?” You might wonder, “Why all the barking, Oakley?” Well, let’s just say I’ve seen things. Life on the streets hardens you. It makes you suspicious of everyone, even the humans with treats.
Nine years ago, Allison picked me out from the rescue pack, and let’s be honest, I wasn’t sure if she knew what she was getting herself into. Spoiler alert: she didn’t. But hey, it was love at first sight. They say the first year is the hardest, right? Back then, Allison was working as a registered nurse with a hectic schedule, and starting a family of her own. Her lifestyle was busy but somehow, she managed to work from home for a while, just to help me settle in. It wasn’t easy, though. I was a bit of a project— terrified of everything and I didn’t even know how I could bark. Yep, I was that quiet at first. Staying mute had been my primary strategy for surviving life on the streets.
One time Allison thought I was purring. Nope, I was growling. That’s when she realized I needed more help than she thought. I didn’t know what food or toys were. I had no appetite. I was starved of love. I made myself king of the staircase, always sitting higher than everyone in the house. It was my way of feeling safe. To this day, I still perch on the back of the couch— just don’t lean your head back. I’ll give you a warning growl. Personal space is sacred, folks.
Slowly, though, Allison and I learned how to take care of each other. For the first time in what felt like forever, I trusted someone again. Yeah, big deal for a guy like me.
Once I was all in, my mission became clear: protect Allison and make her happy. You know, classic dog stuff. But here is the kicker—every morning, I had to watch her leave for appointments or errands, or even worse, close the bathroom door on me. The nerve! My saddest moments were spent staring out the window, waiting for her to come back. And then, one day, she returned with a tiny human that cried louder than me. Seriously? This was not part of the deal!
Fast forward five years, and something strange happened. The tiny human grew and Allison was home full time. She started doing weird things, like washing the groceries and wearing a mask. Had she lost it? At first, I thought my doggy wishes had come true—she was home all day! But then the guilt kicked in. Did I use my magical dog powers to accidentally ruin her career?
But hey, I’m a “live-in-the-moment” kind of guy. Carpe diem, right? That’s when Allison discovered painting.
The moment she picked up a paintbrush, it was like someone flipped a switch. She was happy, I was happy, and we were basically living in a Disney movie. Plus, she was home with me all day, and I even started liking the now-not-so-tiny human. I became her official studio buddy—wagging my tail in approval of every masterpiece she made. Sure, I got a little too excited sometimes and zoomed around, knocking over some art supplies. But Allison didn’t mind. She called them “happy accidents.” I call them “artistic contributions.”
Then, life threw me another curveball. Suddenly, people started ringing the doorbell
a lot. Masked strangers would show up, all excited, while Allison seemed just as thrilled!
I had no idea what was going on until I overheard her talking to family. Turns out, she was selling her paintings! People were finally seeing what I’d known all along—Allison is a genius with a brush (and also a dog lover, which is equally important).
As her art business took off, I stepped up. I became her “artistic director.” Wherever she went, I followed. My dog bed became a mobile office, and I was always there to offer moral support, tail wags, and—selfishly—insist on more walks. What artist doesn’t need a furry assistant to remind them to take breaks?
So here I am—Oakley, the rescue dog who found his bark and his purpose and helped my human find her voice. Together, we’ve created a life full of art, joy and belly rubs. Who knew that getting rescued would lead to something so much bigger? In the end, we rescued each other, and honestly, that’s the best kind of happy ending.
