Last month, a few days after my sweet Nellie died, I took a detour at the animal shelter through stray dogs. Small dogs and puppies are housed in a room near strays where potential adopters view the pups from a windowed hallway and subsequently fall in love at first sight. And that’s where I first saw her.
Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t need another dog. Nellie is irreplaceable, as are all my pets. But I remembered a cute adoption dog I’d seen recently and thought I’d stop and say hello. Turns out he’d already been adopted, but as I went to leave, there in the last run sat a tiny red dog politely staring back at me with equally tiny eyes. Her kennel card said “Phoebe.”
Phoebe’s feet and chest are white, with a stripe running from her nose to the top of her head and with ears far too big for her. In a word — adorable. So I said, “Well, who are you?” Not a peep escaped her mouth, which, by the way, sports an overbite. Still, she inched forward, her fluffy tail swaying back and forth like one of those feather dusters.
Now Don't Get Me Wrong 