How My Rescue Puppy Rescued Me: Pets, Burnout, and the Unexpected Path to Mental Clarity

🐾 A Longing That Never Went Away 

I’ve always wanted a dog, specifically a Pomeranian.  

Not in a passing kind of way—I just really wanted a pom. I had so much love to give, and every time I pet-sat or spent time with friends' dogs (who always seemed to gravitate toward me), that desire for one of my own grew stronger. But no matter how strong the desire was, the timing never felt right. There was also the never-ending struggle of applying to rescues, filling out countless applications and never getting a call back or a response. It felt like it was never going to happen and of course it's hard to micromanage the process when my regular life was already challenging to manage. I found out later from one rescue why I wasn’t getting calls back, their answer was frankly alarming to someone like me who genuinely wanted a dog and had the means to provide a great home for one, but that's for another article.  

Between working full-time (sometimes multiple jobs), attending school full-time, and managing what always seemed like a more than full schedule, adding a pet at times felt like an impossible luxury. I told myself someday. But that “someday” always got buried under deadlines, obligations, and exhaustion. When I finally got around to going through the application process; and if you’ve gone through the process of rescue, it's a long one, that too felt like it was becoming a chore. I was always available for everyone else but me. Maybe some of it was me filling in the time with more stuff to do or it was just something that was possible because I made it possible. Looking back now, I can see it clearly: beneath the surface of my busy life was something else quietly taking root—burnout and a kind of low-grade depression that didn’t scream for attention, but slowly chipped away at my joy, my energy, and my perspective. 

🌫️ When “Busy” Becomes a Cover for Burnout 

On paper, I was doing everything “right.” 

I even discussed this topic heavily in my first business as it pertains to efficiency, automation and the art of being “busy” for the sake of being busy. But when it comes to me, I supposed like so many others my perspective was skewed by my proximity to the problem. I worked hard, hit my goals, supported my friends and family. But emotionally? I was drained. I felt like I was always sprinting but never getting anywhere. Like I was living in a constant state of catch-up—physically present but mentally fogged over. 

Even when I had a moment to breathe, I couldn’t. My mind would latch onto everything that wasn’t working: career stress, relationships, future plans, the pressure to balance it all. And because I didn’t look like I was struggling, I assumed it wasn’t “serious” enough to do anything about. 

If you’ve ever felt like you’re surviving instead of living, you know exactly what I mean. 

What this all has to do with rescuing my first dog, I'm getting to in a second.  

🔄 Mild Depression Still Weighs Heavy 

People often associate depression with the inability to get out of bed or function. But for many of us, it doesn’t show up that way. It can be high functioning and can even look like productivity. But underneath, it’s emotional fatigue. It's disconnection. It's the inability to focus on joy because your brain is stuck in a loop of what’s not working. 

In my case, I wasn’t completely falling apart—but I was quietly unraveling.  

My life wasn’t awful. But it felt flat. There was always something to fix, worry about, plan, or control. The thought of adding a dog to the mix? It felt both irresponsible and impossible. 

And then came Lily... 

I had been out of work for about a year and took on a pro-bono coaching role for people in job transition while I continued to look for a full time job. A woman, I later befriended, would come to the meetings and always had a cross body bag on. Not for her computer or notebook to take notes but to my delight a tiny pom inside as quiet as a button; you may already know I instantly fell in love. Years later she helped me eventually rescue my pom Lily who is the best thing that has ever happened to me. It was love at first sight for both of us. She stole my heart, my bed and my money on day one HA! Willow was added to our family 6 months after Lily.  

🐶 Enter Lily: The Tiny Pup Who Changed Everything 

She was just three months old. A rescue with a broken leg and a backstory no human—or puppy—should have to endure. Originally I saw a photo of her with her cast on and I’m not sure if it was my intense need to have a puppy or fate but I knew she was my puppy from that picture. I wanted to meet her first because I do believe dogs choose us and I wanted to make sure she felt the same way about me as I did her. She did.  

The day I brought her home; I was given all the normal warning signs of adopting a rescue. If she cries put her in her crate and cover it with a sheet, she should calm down. She may be scared the first few days and not to worry, just try to get her into a routine she will adjust. Although I was a first-time pup mom, I didn’t feel nervous about it because I truly wanted to be there for her, she was safe now. To my surprise the moment I met her at the rescue she jumped up on the sofa into my arms, belly up and I knew we were going to be okay. Once we got home it was just her and me, so I wasn't sure if any of her fears would set in now in an unfamiliar place; I was prepared to stay up all night with her. Lily had other plans. She walked into my apartment, did a quick walk around to check out the place, took one of her toys from the box and jumped onto the sofa. She knew she was home, and I was so relieved and filled with love I can’t explain it. She wanted to snuggle and play with her toys, and I loved every single second of it; she was happy.  

Suddenly, the constant mental reel of things I couldn’t control—dating, work, family pressures, that lingering to-do list that never ended—faded into the background. Because Lily was now my number one priority. And not just in the abstract sense. 

She needed me—my attention, my care, my focus—now. And if you’ve met her, Lily gets what Lily wants, she’s definitely a boss and I love that about her, it's hilarious.  

🩺 From Self-Focus to Care-Focus 

Here’s what no one tells you: sometimes the best way to care for yourself is to care for something else. 

Lily shifted everything in my entire life for the better. 

Suddenly, it wasn’t about me anymore—not my overwhelm, not my worries, not my ruminating thoughts. My priority became helping this tiny, injured soul heal and feel safe. And in doing that for her, I unknowingly started to heal parts of myself that I hadn’t even realized were broken. 

What had felt like a chaotic, unmanageable life just days earlier now had a purpose. Not because the chaos disappeared—but because something more important stepped in to ground me. 

😓 Burnout Didn’t Vanish, But It Became Manageable 

Lily didn’t wave a magic wand and erase my burnout or my mental health struggles. But she did something even more powerful: she broke the cycle. 

Before her, I would spiral. I’d fixate on problems I couldn’t solve, conversations I replayed a hundred times, the pressure to find balance that never came. 

After her, those thoughts had less room to grow. 

Why? Because I didn’t have the mental bandwidth to obsess over the unimportant. I had a living, breathing, tail-wagging being who needed food, snacks, care, walks, and love. And she gave it all back tenfold. 

🧠 The Mental Health Shift No One Talks About 

Caring for Lily created natural structure in my day. It got me outside more in a different way, I slowed down with her we made puppy friends, smelled everything and were very curious about squirrels and birds. She forced me to be present. She required attention, belly rubs, and training and looked to me for everything. I meant the world to her and that somehow was what I needed.  

There’s growing research that supports what pet owners already know intuitively: