Every so often, I find myself clinging to routines. I did that a lot over the summer. After traveling for most of the spring, it felt good to be home, and for me, home = routine. Ditch a few letters, though, and “routine” becomes “rut,” and that’s no fun. Bringing WOW! into your life takes energy. By definition, WOW! is something new and unchartered. And that’s why it’s often easier to stick to the known.

My experience this summer reminded me of when we adopted our first four-legged family member. I’d been trying to convince David that boys need a dog. (It’s right there on page 86 of the parenting handbook.) But it took Nick and his cute, freckled face to finally get him onboard. Nick was a persuasive little four-year-old who’d seen a picture of a Westie who looked like he was smiling. He told his dad we needed a pet with personality and announced that we could name him “Happy Hockey Dog” after David’s favorite sport and Nick’s favorite emotion. Then he sealed the deal by giving this face.

We started our search on a local animal shelter’s website and found a cute terrier named Copper, who looked like a cross between Benji and Steve Buscemi. He even looked like he was smiling.(Or possibly growling.) When we went to meet Copper in person, he came charging out of his crate, lifted his leg and peed on every wall. Then, he pushed Nick down and tried to escape. Perhaps Copper wasn’t our Happy Hockey Dog after all.

But there was another puppy at the shelter that caught Nick’s eye. A note tacked to the wall said he was a Feist who was about three months old. Yes, “Feist” is an actual breed. After doing a little research this week, I learned they’re small terriers known for hunting squirrels and other small vermin. Especially rats. (Lovely.) According to Webster’s Third New International Dictionary, the word “feist” comes from “fysting,” which means “breaking wind.” (I kid you not.) If I’d known any of this back then, the story might have ended differently, but I didn’t. So, let’s continue with this tail tale.

This particular dog had been found wandering the streets of Murfreesboro, Tennessee. Now, he was crouched in the back of a crate, visibly shaking and staring at the wall, probably hoping he was invisible. But Nick spotted him and his potential. He pointed to the not-so-feisty Feist and said, “I like that one.”

My dad, who’d joined us on the adventure, said, “Are you sure? He doesn’t look like much fun.” Walking over to another puppy who was jumping up and down, trying to get our attention, he suggested, “What about this one?”

“No,” Nick insisted. “That one.”

The shelter employee had to crawl halfway into the crate to retrieve the scaredy cat dog from the far corner he’d made home. When we knelt down to make his tiny little acquaintance, he turned around and tried to slink away.

At first, I thought, “Dad’s right. He’s not much fun. He isn’t even mildly interested in sniffing us.” I mean this is what Nick looked like. There’s no telling what he could have been hiding in that hair.

Then I realized that the crate was his “known.” His comfort zone. What he didn’t know is that his “known zone” actually sucked. There were three other dogs in there, wrestling with each other, barking, and nipping at his ears, trying to get him to join in their fun.

Fortunately for him, Nick wasn’t ready to give up. He instinctually knew “that one” was the one—our first family dog—and so we adopted the trembling ball of black and white fur.

There was just one hiccup: “Happy Hockey Dog” clearly didn’t fit (although “Petrified Ping-Pong Puppy” might have worked.) This little animal wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked like he might vomit. Always prepared, Nick had two back-up name options: “Scooter” and “Skateboard.” After a family vote, he was christened “Scooter.” And let’s just say he lived up to his name and his breed.

Scooter went on to live his best life, once he was drug out of brave enough to come out of the known. Once he let a crazy-haired little boy show him what life could be like if he was simply willing to try something new.

And that, my friends, is the lesson I needed to relearn this summer. For the record, my townhouse-sized crate doesn’t suck. And there’s no one here barking at me. But too much known can be dangerous. As can too much caffeine. So, I am back to trying new things and searching out new adventures.

What new thing can you try today to bring you out of your comfort zone? Maybe find your own version of Nick, who will drag you outside and love you. It just might help you become the next, better version of yourself.