Lola crosses her paws quite politely and tilts her head as if posing for school photos. Originally a joke, it was simply me attempting to persuade her to sit still long enough to email adorable photos to my sister.
Now she does it by herself, as if she understands it makes others melt.
But not everyone.
A letter pushed under my door last week. No envelope was found. Simply strong print: “Your pit bull has drawn complaints. Management will check back.
I felt a sinking in my stomach.
I had been so cautious. She is always on leash. Does not ever bark. Most individuals are unaware of her presence unless they look through the mailroom camera, as one neighbor obviously did.
I printed images of Lola grinning. Her veterinary records. Her certificate of training. I also included a letter clarifying her inclusion in my anxiety treatment plan.
The following day I gave it all to the leasing office manager.
He looked over it and remarked, “She seems kind. Still, rules are rules.
I felt like screaming. I just inquired, “Even if she’s never caused a single problem?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
Now I’m on the floor beside her bed emailing every pet-friendly apartment in a ten-mile radius watching her flash her ideal little grin.
I have not yet informed her.
Still, we could have to begin again.
Early the next day, before anyone else could move, I got up and walked Lola. The air smelt sharp, like though autumn was finally choosing to arrive. Walking by the park, I saw an elderly woman seated on a bench, knitting something vibrant between her hands. Lola paused on her walk to smell towards the lady inquisitively.
The woman gently said, “Hi there,” gazing at Lola rather than me. Her voice was friendly, but also somewhat weary, as though life had worn her down in areas she no longer discussed.
“Sorry if she startled you,” I said hastily, gently tugging on Lola’s leash. I guarantee she’s friendly.
The lady dismissed me. You don’t have to say sorry. Years ago, I had a dog like her. large grin, large heart. She turned her head in Lola’s direction; the latter was now frantically wagging her tail, almost vibrating with joy. Her name?
“Lola,” I said. “And yeah, she’s got more character than most people I know.”
The woman laughed quietly, her eyes crinkling at the edges. You ought to bring her by occasionally. Though they’re too busy these days to visit as frequently as they formerly did, my granddaughters love animals. She thought about it before saying, “Actually, do you mind if I take a picture?” For the sake of nostalgia.
Lola posed with her paws crossed, head tilted, and smiling like she’d just won Best in Show before I could respond. This time the woman chuckled openly and dropped her knitting needles to get her phone.
Snapping the picture, she said, “You taught her to do that?”
I said, “Not exactly.” It sort of happened by itself. She is more intelligent than the two of us put together.
Saying farewell made me feel strangely lighter, as perhaps things weren’t really hopeless. Opening my laptop to see rejection emails from three separate flats already, though, back home reality struck hard. Though Lola was as mild as they come, two mentioned “no aggressive breeds” regulations. The third just stated, “Not a good fit.”
I felt agitated. How could anyone see Lola and believe she was harmful? Of all, with her powerful frame and stocky build, she appeared tough; but, she was all marshmallow underneath. Still, landlords saw just what they wanted to see—a label, a stereotype—and nothing else appeared to be significant.
Later that night, I chose to stroll around the block once again to clear my brain. Lola ran next to me this time without pausing to smell every lamppost or bush. Tonight, something about her energy felt different—more attentive, even intentional.
Turning down the main street, I saw the same woman from earlier standing outside a tiny café. When she saw us, she gestured to draw us nearer.
She said kindly, “I thought I might see you tonight.” After our earlier conversation, I couldn’t help but think about your circumstance, so please hear me out. I might have a fix, too.
A fix? I said doubtfully again. By now, I doubted anything short of divine intervention could assist.
The lady agreed. Not far from here, my daughter runs a downtown building. Mostly to artists and freelancers, she leases out several flats. No limits; pets are permitted. At this time, she’s really seeking new tenants.
I blinked, not knowing what to say. Was this some kind of trap? People didn’t just suddenly provide answers like this.
The woman told me, feeling my doubt, “It’s true.” Her father left her the house; she works to keep things flexible for tenants. Should you like, I may provide her your number. Or even better… She rapidly wrote something on her phone. “There. Wrote her a note telling you two about one another. You will soon hear from her.
True to her promise, I got a text within minutes. Brief but encouraging: Hey, Mom said you’re searching for a location? How about we talk then?
By the end of the call the next day, I was astonished. The woman’s daughter not only sounded really kind; the place she described also sounded ideal—a warm one-bedroom with big windows, hardwood floors, and a fenced-in backyard. Best of all, even with Lola included, the rent was reasonable.
We were moving in two weeks later. The move was not simple; moving boxes and carrying furniture wore me out. Every time I saw Lola leaping joyfully around the new yard, after butterflies and rolling in the grass, I knew it was worthwhile.
Knocking on the door one bright Saturday morning as we unpacked the final of our stuff, Opening it revealed the landlord herself carrying a foil-wrapped dish of cookies.
She smiled and said, “Welcome to the neighborhood.” I thought you folks could enjoy a small housewarming gift.
Her eyes moved to Lola, who was lying close and instantly brightened at the sight of cookies. Lola got up, crossed her paws, and smiled her usual smile without asking.
“Oh my gosh,” the landlord chuckled, astonished. How sweet! You really taught her to accomplish that?
I turned down. Mostly, she trains herself.
Well, whatever you did, it worked miracles. Thanks for picking this location; it feels great to fill it with such positive energy.
Walking away made me understand something significant: occasionally, life gives you hurdles not to destroy you but rather to guide you toward more prospects. At first, losing our old apartment seemed terrible, but it brought us here—to a community that welcomed Lola for who she actually was, not the preconceptions others sought to impose on her.
Looking back, I picked up a great lesson during those hectic days: don’t allow fear control your decisions. Standing up for what matters—even when it seems impossible—can unlock doors you never anticipated. Sometimes, those who appear least likely to grasp will be your best friends.
Should you like this tale, kindly forward it along to family and friends. Who knows? Perhaps someone reading this needs a reminder that, regardless of how challenging circumstances appear now, better days are ahead. Love
