The Puppy I Almost Didn’t Bring Home (A German Shepherd Love Story)

I went to the mall for vacuum bags. I came home with the love of my life.

I wasn’t looking for a puppy that day. I just saw the sign: “German Shepherd Puppies.” Inside the pet shop, a 40-year community staple, there were three pups: two males and a female. The little girl caught my eye.

I held her. Played a little with her. She was adorable. But I had an appointment with a respected German Shepherd breeder in a few days, and I was pretty sure this puppy came from a backyard breeder. So I smiled, handed her back, and walked out.

Until I came back that same afternoon with my Doberman, Lexus. I needed to see how she’d respond to the puppy. The meet and greet was uneventful. Lexus was a bit overwhelmed, but there was no conflict.

Still, I left again.

The next day, I met the breeder’s puppies. They were everything “right” -good lines, clean facility, experienced breeder. But I felt no connection. On the drive home, I picked up the phone and called the pet shop: “I’m coming for the little girl.”

Yes, I knew what people might say. Yes, I knew where she likely came from. But my heart had already made its decision.

I named her “Czarina,” the Russian word for empress. And she ruled my life for over 12 years.

That first day, I gated her in the hall while I changed upstairs. When I turned around, whoa! There she was. At nine weeks old, she had climbed the gate, climbed the stairs and found me. She looked up at me as though she was saying, “I’ll always be at your side.” And she was.

She was the boss of the brood. A chewer of blankets, and managed to add a pillow and a table corner. She made my home look “lived in.” But she was my girl.

At the vet once, she lay quietly at my feet. A man came in with a large, reactive dog—barking, lunging. As the dog came toward us, Czarina let out one bark, I swear shook the clinic walls and went into lunge mode. “Not on my watch!” And it was in that moment I saw it again. She would have laid down her life for me.

Years passed. At 10, she was diagnosed with inoperable IVDD. By 12, her back legs were failing, but her spirit never quit. She slept at the foot of the stairs—she couldn’t climb them anymore.

One day, I filmed her struggling just to walk across the hall to find me in the kitchen. I watched that video once. It broke me. All I could say through tears was: “What have I done?”

That was the moment I knew. I called the vet and arranged everything. She died with the dignity she deserved. My face was the last she saw, my voice the last she heard.

Today is Czarina’s birthday. She would have been 17, old for a Shepherd. Five years later, I still miss her terribly. Every Shepherd I’ve had since is measured against her. I love them all. But there’s only one Czarina.

The lesson?

Sometimes the dog that’s meant for you doesn’t come from the perfect place. Sometimes, it just finds you. And when it does, you’ll know.