It's taken me a long time to get over the loss of my first dog as a grownup. Beejay (don't judge please - my daughter who was 8-years-old at the time named him), was a great dog. He was a mutt - part alarm, part garbage collector, part cheetah. He could run like the wind and chase a deer for miles, collapsing on the ground with tongue lolling. He barked at anything and everything that moved, making him an excellent watch dog but a poor sleeping companion. We would walk for miles together and he responded to every tiny adjustment of the leash as though being guided by a steering wheel. 
Eight years ago, when he passed from natural causes at the age of fifteen, I cried for days. The corner where his bed used to be was empty. The mat where his water and food used to be had been thrown away, the dishes given to a second hand shop. His chewed toys were rounded up in a trash bag. The less to remind me of him the better. Except for the photographs. Pictures of him still adorn my shelves and a custom made pillow I keep by  my bedside displays his majestic terrier face. For years after his death, tears would trickle down my cheeks when I thought of him. Still do sometimes.
Getting another dog did not cross my mind. Years went by before I even considered it. And when I did, there was always a reason why it wasn't the right time: it's not right to leave a dog all day while we're working, who will take care of the dog when we retire and want to travel, do we want the responsibility of another dog, and, most importantly, do we really want to suffer the heartache we felt when Beejay died?
Some days, I answered yes to all the above questions. Other days, I reluctantly admitted I didn't want the responsibility. Nevertheless, I bookmarked three animal shelters near me and would check their websites every few weeks, looking for the perfect dog. A dog like the one I loved and lost. Of course I never found it. But, the questions I asked myself seemed to dwindle. I retired so the dog wouldn't spend its days alone. The pandemic meant no travel, at least not for a while. And I was willing to risk the sorrow because I know the joy of having a furry companion would outweigh the loss. All that was left is the responsibility of having a pet again. I decided I'll adjust.