I was never much of a video game guy. It’s not that I don’t like them, I just could never really afford those. The first time I played Super Mario was when I got a Wii for my 23rd birthday. For some reason that I didn’t understand, Oliver had lent me his PS3 a few weeks before we moved in together, so when we finally did, he missed his console a lot.

With the very first pay check I got, I made sure to get Oliver a gift. What can I say? I’ve always been a shopaholic and I loved to spoil him. Sure, we were still pretty much poor, even more so with rent and all the bills, but I could still get something nice for my man every now and then. He had been talking a lot about the new Diablo game that was finally getting released and I was great at getting hints, so that was the very first present I ever got him and it even came with a nice t-shirt.

I would leave him to his own devices whenever he was playing. That always allowed me to enjoy some time for myself, listen to some music and just chill on my laptop. A couple of weeks after we got our internet, I finished setting the house’s media server, which was great and allowed us to stream anything from the pc to the living room TV, which saved a lot of time and made everything look less messy. Also, I could also play some pranks on him. My favourite was always sending a ‘bazinga’ screen to the TV just to interrupt his gaming. The very first time was hilarious, because he spent forever trying to understand what the fuck had happened, but all the times had their great element of fun.

By mid-November, I decided to have a go at that Diablo game. I chose the skinny wizard simply because he had those guarding hellhounds. I’ve always loved dogs, so that was my character.

Yes, I have always loved dogs, but I cannot say I have always liked dogs. When I was a child, I used to be terrified of them. Whenever I was walking on the street with my mother and we happened to come across one, which happened way too often for my taste, I would panic so much I would stop walking. When I was very little, I would climb my mother up in a second and it would even take her a few moments to understand there was a dog nearby.

I know, how can I dream of having a farm full of dogs if I’m afraid of dogs? My mother was also one to constantly ask that question, but I always only shrugged and said ‘I’ll figure it out’.

I cannot really tell when I stopped being afraid of dogs, but I do have a very special trip in my memory lane from when I was eleven and the house had this enormous creature who terrified me during the first minute and a half but then proceeded to make best friends with me. I remember spending most afternoons during that trip lying on the ground reading a book and using its belly as a pillow, one hand holding the book and the other one playing behind its ears.

I really wanted a dog, but I wanted one as part of the family. I had only had two dogs before. One briefly when I was six and my mom had my sister return it and another one when I was fourteen, but it didn’t have permission to stay inside, so we were all guilty of neglecting it. This time it was my house, so my rules. I wanted a dog to treat as a child, not as an object. Especially because I really didn’t know where I stood when it was about having human children.

Somehow, I couldn’t really bring myself to ask Oliver if we could adopt one. I really thought that would be an excessive stretch of my luck. Five months before, my life was as low as it had ever been and here I was, for lack of better word, living the dream. I settled for transferring all of my affection to the hellhounds in Diablo.

I might have overdone it, because Oliver would soon choose to just sit by my side while I was playing simply because he liked to see how I treated those dogs. I decided to call them Zeph and would constantly scream at the TV encouraging words so they could go chase those enemies. Bless Oliver for reading me like a child can read a Coke sign. When the last month of that crazy 2013 started, he popped the question.

‘Ralph, have you ever thought of having a real one?’

My eyes gleamed.

‘I’d love to, but our place is so small.’

‘So we get a small one. Do you want a boy or a girl?’

‘A boy! A good boy named Zeph.’

‘Is that short for Joseph?’

‘Yes, but his name won’t be Joseph, just Zeph.’

‘Okay. So Zeph it is’ Oliver grinned at my answer before continuing. ‘Do you have any idea of how to find him?’

‘Not really. I know I don’t want to buy a dog, I want to adopt one. I guess I’ll search some Facebook groups.’

And search I did. I didn’t know exactly where to look, so it took me a few days to get the gist of the thing. Oliver wasn’t helping much. He couldn’t, actually. As much as he wanted to play a bigger part in it, we were already in December, and that meant he was working basically all day every day. He would leave for work at nine in the morning and arrive back only after eleven at night. He would have a quick dinner, rest a little and head straight to bed. I didn’t mind it, though. I knew it would happen. It was all a matter of waiting for Christmas when this would all be over. Still, every night during dinner, he checked up on my progress.

I had been searching for a fortnight when I finally found a group dedicated to responsible adoption. They had this post of a few puppies together in a cute box saying they were all for adoption. I found their telephone number, thinking it would make a better impression to call instead of just commenting on the picture, and gave them a call.

There is this weird thing that happens with my voice every time I try to be excessively polite. For some reason it sounds childish. That is why the very first thing the woman who took the call asked me when I said I wanted to adopt one of her dogs was if my parents were aware and approving of it.

‘Uuh… Lady… I’m twenty-five and live alone.’

There was an awkward silence, which she tried to break by explaining that kids calling hidden from their parents was a common thing. I thought I might go easy on her and explain I was aware of what happened to my voice, but I decided I wasn’t really in the mood, so I brought the conversation back to my interests and to those puppies on the picture.

‘Are any of those males?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. There was only one male in that group and he has already been adopted.’

‘Oh. Okay. Do you have any male puppies?’

‘What are you looking for exactly? We don’t give animals to be guard dogs.’

‘And I wouldn’t want one. I just want a puppy to keep each other company. It cannot grow too much, because my place is really small and I don’t think it would be fair to it.’

‘Okay, then. Can I send you some pictures of the male puppies we have? How young do you want them?’

‘Sure you can! And any age is okay. I wouldn’t even mind getting an adult, it’s just that, since it’s my first dog, I wish I could have it for a long time.’

I told her my e-mail address and waited for the pictures. God, she was bad at taking pictures. None of those dogs looked cute. How can a person photograph dogs and not make them cute? That was something I until then deemed impossible.

I kept swiping the pictures until I reached the last one. Probably the worst picture of all. She was in it, wearing a horrible robe, barely able to hold a black puppy mongrel with caramel paws. He didn’t look okay at all, with his eyes closed and a look of extreme discomfort on his face. Still, it felt like what my sister had told me when I said I was looking for a dog, ‘you won’t find a dog. The dog will find you’. There was something about that picture. Something about that puppy. I couldn’t wait until Oliver arrived to tell him I had found Zeph.

‘Ralph, my love’ I could hear in his voice he was trying to put some sense into me as he looked at the dog’s awful picture while taking off his uniform. ‘This dog will grow, we had agreed on a small one.’

‘I know. I know… It’s just…’

‘You already love him, don’t you?’

‘I do! I really do! I know it’s a terrible picture, but I already love him so much.’

‘He’ll grow, Ralph.’

‘I know.’

I have never been a person to ignore reason. I could see what he meant and my heart started to sink.

‘Oh my, Ralph. You meant it. You really love him’ he sighed. ‘Okay. Call the lady again tomorrow and see if he’s still available.

I could barely sleep. The next morning I tried to sound casual on the phone with the lady.

‘Oh! That’s Scooby!’ Ugh. Her dog-photo-taking ability only lost to her dog-naming one. I still wanted her to see me as a competent dog father, so I didn’t tell her his name wasn’t Scooby, it was Zeph. That was for Zeph to know, not her. ‘Yes, he’s still available. But there are some things you need to know.’

‘Okay. I’m all ears.’

‘What I have is a farm where I rescue dogs and treat them before giving them to responsible adoption. I have a very good space for the dogs and, because there are too many, I make it a rule to not have them inside the house. This one, though, I had no choice. He is very innocent and has a very soft heart. He is only five months old, but he is afraid even of younger and smaller puppies than him. They would steal his food and he would remain hungry. So I took him away from the others so he could eat. He needs a lot of attention.’

‘He sounds like the perfect dog. Can I please have him?’

She proceeded to ask me some questions to check if I would have the conditions to provide him shelter, food, and love. When she was convinced, she agreed to take him to me.

On the 18th of December, the arranged day, I left home way too early to go to our meeting place: a gas station at the highway near my place. It was a ten-minute slow walk away and I left the house almost an hour before the agreed time. On the way I passed by a pet shop to get everything I needed: water and food bowls, food, a chest leash (I hate the neck ones), shampoo, and a toy. Any toys I’d ever give him would always have to be silent ones. Heaven forbid we’re trying to sleep and he starts wreaking havoc at three in the morning. Still, I didn’t want to be an imposing father. So I made the decision to pay for everything, but not choosing the toy. I made only a pre-selection of those and told the pet shop people I would go collect him and, on the way back home, I would pick my purchases up.

She took another hour to arrive, which wasn’t helping my anxiety at all. When she did, she took the wrong lane and was on the centre one, so she had to pull over and I had to cross a fucking highway to get to her. Stupid woman. On the car there were her, her daughter, and about five dogs, all of them being taken for adoption that day. Her daughter, who was on the passenger seat, took Zeph from the back one and handed him to me through the open window.

‘Please, if you ever think you don’t want him anymore, just call us and we’ll come pick him up. Don’t throw him on the street.’

For a second I felt angry that anyone would ever do that, then I remembered the world we live in. I looked at her dead in the eye and replied ‘I won’t do that. He’s my son.’

‘Okay, then. Here’s his vaccination card and just so you know, we gave him a small dose of Dramamine so he wouldn’t get sick in the car. Make him happy, will you?’

‘Trust me. I will’ I said as I took the sleepy drowsy puppy in my arms and crossed the highway to head back home. It didn’t take him long to open his eyes. He looked scared by the new environment and by the strange face so close to him.

‘Hello, Zeph’ I said softly. He kept staring at my eyes and I averted his only for brief seconds to make sure I knew where I was going. ‘I am Ralph and I am your father. There are some things I would like you to know. You now have two fathers who love you very much. You will always be our son. I know life is cruel and sadly I am expected to outlive you, but I want you to know I will always be your dad. As long as you live, I will make sure you feel loved. As long as I live, I will make sure to love you. I want to be a great father to you, but I have no idea how to do that. I hope you can help me. You are very loved. There is nothing I cannot do to protect you and I want you to know you can always count on me.’

We shortly arrived at the pet shop where they weighed him and I laid him on the floor in front of the toys I had pre-selected. He looked confused, but sniffed all of them a few times, before grabbing a small black toy tire with his mouth. I took him and all the supplies home and shortly later my mother had arrived with my grandmother, sister, and niece to meet him. We spent some hours talking and laughing and making Zeph feel comfortable. When we went down the stairs so I could take them to their car, I was again holding Zeph in my arms. He rested his head on my shoulder and I felt accomplished.

In the evening I was feeling sleepy and took a nap on the couch with him sleeping on my chest. That would become almost a daily activity for the pair of us. I set the alarm so I could have dinner ready to receive Oliver. When I saw him coming up the stairs, I grabbed Zeph on my arms again and asked him ‘are you ready to meet your other dad? I’m sure he’ll love you just as I do and just as he loves me.’

When the door opened, Oliver opened an even wider smile. He came softly to my side and started talking to Zeph while caressing his head.

‘Hi, Zeph’ his voice had an amazing mix of excitement, care, and love. ‘I’m your dad, too. You will be very very very much loved.’

That night Zeph slept next to our bed. He slept for many long hours, surely being exhausted after a day that changed his life completely. He woke up in a farm and when to bed in a flat with two strangers he already loved.

Because of Oliver’s insane work routine still lasting another full week, it took Zeph a bit more to bond with him. After all, they barely saw one another. Surely, that bond came, just strong as the one he already had with me. I was on vacation and all my days were filled with afternoons watching Doctor Who lying on the couch with Zeph on my chest and taking him to walks in the evening. I soon learned he liked his privacy doing his business, because nothing in the world could make Zeph take a dump while in the leash. So I basically had to wash the spot of the garage every day.

I still live by the promise I made him to love him as long as I live and to make him feel loved as long as he lives. He will forever be my son. And, for some reason, I never played Diablo again.