We decided to wait for the weekend to go get you but I couldn't. That Thursday evening we went. The people we got you from loved you. The man was big and burly, a shirtless mechanic with an elbow spider web tattoo. He spread out a dirty comforter on the floor and someone from the other room opened the crate door. The sweaty mechanic got down on his knees and and yelled "puppies, puppies, puppies" in the sweetest voice he could muster.
A wave of little brown and white fur balls came sliding and bounding around the corner, while I sat on the couch next to your grandmother. She was so sweet, that's how I knew you would be. You sat in my lap and we played, and you were mine. …and I was yours.
September 6th, 2001
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