Tomorrow, our poodle puppy, Betty Star, will probably arrive.

There’s a lot to unpack in that short sentence.

“Tomorrow.” It’s close, but not here yet. And as we know, a lot can happen in a day. Take yesterday for example. I never would have imagined that I’d learn that school at home during a pandemic means that when there’s an attempted coup, you can talk with your kid in real time about white privilege, entitlement, domestic terrorism, representative democracy, and runoff elections (yay Georgia!).

And the newsy part! We’re getting a puppy. So fun, but possibly unsurprising to you because everyone you know got a dog or a puppy during COVID, and we are just late to the party? No way. We are unexpectedly right on time for this puppy. Let me catch you up.

As Wyatt will tell you, he has wanted a dog since he was born. Before he could talk, he’d point out dogs and grunt dog-like sounds to underscore his point. When he was around three, he’d yell at any passerby with a dog, “HEY! I LIKE YOUR DOG!” and wait to see if they’d offer for him to pet it, getting quietly offended if they ignored him. Now, he just asks, “Can I say hi to your dog?” He approaches in all the right ways, but only if the person says he may, and he takes no offense if they decline. Ah, maturity.

Despite years of pleas, neither Marc nor I ever found much charm in the idea of having a dog. But it got much harder to dismiss Wyatt’s requests after his Google slide presentation this fall, “Why I Am Ready For A Dog.” (Do not try to tell me Zoom school doesn’t work—this deck proves otherwise.) Ultimately, we told him if he showed he could take responsibility for his COVID home-Zoom-school work, we’d consider getting a dog because he’d have proven that he could pretty much manage his current life. But if he didn’t, we saw no reason to take on more responsibility for ourselves. He agreed to try, saying out loud more than a few times that he really doubted we’d ever change our minds. That expression was a genius move on his part. It made Marc and me examine if we were being honest and reasonable. It motivated us to figure out ways we could support Wyatt to reach his goal and somehow, along the way, helping him succeed and get a dog became our goal, too. By late November, Marc and I were convinced that Wyatt’s slides contained no lies—he was ready for a dog (and so were we).

I then began, in earnest, the process of finding a dog. We wanted to keep it a secret from Wyatt until we had an adoption set up, so this project took place late at night (there are no secrets in the daytime in our house these days). Wyatt’s favorite dog has always been a poodle, and he had researched breeds in depth months ago and determined that if he ever got a dog (please let me get a dog), it would be a poodle. I’m not allergic to poodles and Marc had no opinion, so the choice was clear. I began to scour rescue organizations’ websites, and I also started contacting breeders to find out if they might have an adult poodle they were retiring from show or from breeding. We figured that with an adult dog, we’d have a chance of them already being pretty well trained. I kept losing out with the rescues, but eventually, I found a breeder who had retiring adult dogs. The problem was that they were in the Midwest and the transportation options were too limited for that option to work. But this same breeder also had puppies who were just ready to go to their forever homes. There were three left, one of which, she said, would be perfect for us. The breeder sent us pictures (OHMYGOSH!), we sent a deposit, and we proceeded to keep the puppy a secret from Wyatt for a whole week. (I know. That’s longer than I thought I could do it, too.) We told him about it just before school let out for winter break.

We’ve all been waiting for the puppy’s arrival ever since, with varying degrees of patience. Honestly, these last couple of months have already been quite a ride, and she’s not even here yet. If you had told me 11 months ago we’d be getting a puppy, I’d have laughed uproariously at your silliness. But we have all changed and grown so much in the last 11 months that a thing I was pretty sure we’d never do is probably happening tomorrow. And she has such a good name!

Our puppy’s name is Betty Star, and that’s thanks to the power of friendship and dreams, both vital for life (pandemic or not). Based on the puppy’s photos, my friend, Anne, suggested Betty. It’s perfect. Star comes from when we had seen a dog that was up for adoption at a rescue organization, and his name was listed on the website as “Ink Spot.” Wyatt and I thought this was a stupid name. Wyatt noticed the white star-shaped patch on the pup’s chest and decided he should be named “Star” instead. Star then became the name of Wyatt’s dream dog, the one we’d talk about while we walked at the beach early in the morning before Zoom school. The whole time he looked like he was just out for a walk, but he was actually waiting for any opportunity to throw a ball or a stick for any dog who came by.

We are so excited she will “probably arrive” tomorrow. Having lived 2020, the three of us are now pleasantly surprised when our plans actually happen. As early as April, Wyatt had dubbed COVID “The Cancel Virus,” and it has definitely lived up to its nickname. Even the outdoors felt canceled for us on September 9 when the sun looked like didn’t rise. Consciously or not, we’ve developed a way of cradling a plan gently and carefully—like those butterflies we raised years ago—and definitely not gripping it. Everything can change in a moment, and it feels so awful to spin your wheels deep into the mud of disappointment for the better part of an otherwise perfectly good day simply because things didn’t go the way you imagined.

Finally, I don’t mean “probably arrive” in a pessimistic-that-other-shoe-is-bound-to-drop-knock-on-wood kind of way. That was pre-2020 me. I really just mean, “the plan is that she’ll arrive, and I hope she will, and we’ll see what happens.” This small difference is just one tiny example of how my heart, mind, and consciousness have shifted this past year. That process has been, and continues to be, amazing.