Soon after Booker died, some puppy pictures caught my eye, so I asked the breeder if she had any adults. She did -- a bitch who’d been returned. When I saw Little Dog’s picture, I was a goner.
Bruce murmured, “I thought you were going to wait.” Well, I thought so too.
I saw Bruce’s face crumple when I first held her leash, asking, “Are you sure?”
He shrugged, “If that’s what you want.”
I don’t know if she will fit in or create more work or get sick. But I do know that this little dog needs a home, that Night is eight -- which is getting to be an age where dogs die. As a pack animal, he could use a friend.
We brought Little Dog home even though she doesn’t know men, cats or living in a house. She pushes Night away, with her teeth on his muzzle. Let’s say the “B” word is based in reality.
But, as Connie says, a new dog can add a happy energy. That she has, bowing to Night, inviting him to play. After a quick spurt of joy, of what looks like working out their friendship, both dogs fall asleep.
Sometimes, after a loss, it’s not all bad to open your heart -- despite not knowing whether you’ve given yourself enough time to grieve -- because love and joy climb into your lap.
I’m Katie Andraski, and this is my perspective.
