The Best Accident Ever: Meeting Bodie
I still laugh a little when I think about that day because I wasn’t supposed to meet Bodie—or Bailey, as I thought at the time. Bailey was the dog name I had picked out for over 20 years of dreaming. But look at him, definitely a Bodie.
Anyway, the plan was simple (and very responsible): go meet a litter, see what the vibe was, and head home. No big dramatic moment. No “this is my dog” instant certainty. Just a normal drive, a normal visit, and then back to real life.
And then… Vista happened.
My sister and I were driving out there, having the 'we're only looking' conversation, yet it felt like one of those quiet, in-between moments you don’t realize you’ll remember forever. Windows down. Music on. That mix of nerves and excitement sitting in your chest because you want this to be right, but you also don’t know what “right” even looks like since I hadn't had a dog since I was a kid. I remember thinking the whole time, “Okay, just checking it out. No pressure and besides, they said on the phone that all the pups but ... maybe one ... were already spoken for anyway.”
When we got there, I was told the litter was basically spoken for. Everyone had already been picked. Which should’ve been the end of the story, honestly. Ya know like, “well, not today,” and then we got talking to them when they said, "well maybe one."
And then I saw him.
Bodie was the fuzzy one with wispy hair on top of his head. The one who didn’t match the rest. The “oops” one of these things is not like the other moment. And I swear, he knew it too, “Yeah, I’m different. What of it?”
Everyone else was sweet and golden and perfectly what you’d expect.
And then there was Bodie: taller, scruffier, a little wild-looking in the cutest bad hair day way. He didn’t blend in at all. He was perfect.
They brought him out to meet us and I did that thing I always do (against my own best efforts), where my heart started making decisions before my brain caught up.
We spent time outside, just hanging out, watching him explore, letting him come to us instead of forcing anything. He'd sit up against me with his back turned, which at the time I thought oh man, he doesn't like me. Until I learned that turned back thing was actually a good thing—a sign of trust, affection, and comfort.
At first, it was casual. Like, “Okay, let’s see.” But then Bodie kept choosing us.
Not in a loud, pushy way. More like… he just kept showing up in my space. Checking in. Looking up. Leaning in. Then running off like a little tornado and coming right back again, like he didn’t want to miss anything.
That “two-hour play session” sounds so official when I say it like that, but it didn’t feel like an evaluation. The time went fast.
It was tug and chase and little puppy pounces. It was him flopping down like he owned the place, then hopping up like he had one more thing to show us. It was the kind of play that makes you forget to check your phone. The kind that makes you realize you’re smiling so much your cheeks hurt.
Somewhere in the middle of it, I had this quiet, weirdly calm thought: “Oh. yeah, you're mine.” Like I’d been looking for him without knowing it.
I know how cheesy that sounds, but it’s true. Bodie didn’t feel like a choice I made on a checklist. He felt like a connection that showed up and refused to be ignored.
And the funniest part is that he was literally described as a mistake, an accident, like that was something to apologize for.
But to me, that “accident” was the best thing that could’ve happened.
Because that shaggy little guy ended up being my guy.
Looking back, I can say it without even hesitating: meeting Bodie was the best accident ever.
It wasn’t just that he became mine. I was his person, I just knew it.
And in the end, that’s the part I hold onto most: it really was a rescue for both of us.
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