, my childhood dog, was so wonderful and our experience in adopting Honey was such a good one, I knew one day as an adult I would adopt a dog. And so, I did. Prior to my adoption of my current dog, I did buy a dog from a breeder as a single woman. I’d tried several times to adopt a dog, but it was very difficult to get an adoption approved as a single person, living alone in an apartment in the city. Alas, I purchased Libby. She was a lovely dog and helped teach me how to become a mother, how to put someone else ahead of me sometimes. 

 

Libby passed away just a few months after I gave birth to my son, but I always knew, I’d have another dog. Though my husband was a cat person, Libby had worked hard to win him and my two stepsons over. They became critical allies in our campaign to eventually adopt Jessie. 

 

So, when my son was eight years old—and seemed ready—we all started looking for dog to adopt, visiting many local shelters altogether. We’d learned that to get our application approved we needed to be a united front, make the decision together, and be ready to pull the trigger. Though we went to a few local shelters, we really liked the Buddy Dog Humane Society in Sudbury, MA. 

 

We’d seen a few dogs we liked there, young, sweet natured, but always seemed to get scooped by others. Finally, one day that we’d been visiting, I’d asked them as we were leaving disappointed again, to call me if they got any dogs in that seemed right for us. They actually called us back an hour after we arrived home. They had a few puppies come in and if we could return right away, they’d hold one for us. 

 

When we arrived, I asked to speak to Mary, who’d called us. She was the manager that day. Mary pulled us aside and said, “I’m taking you to the puppy room. Not many people know about it. But you folks have had so many near misses getting a dog, it’s about time you do!” Mary ushered us to a room off of the main gallery of kennels, the howls of the big dogs fading away as we closed the door. To our immediate left as we entered was a wall of kitten cages. It turns out the puppy room was a kitten room as well. We walked around the corner and went through another door and there we found four kennels, each with its own sweet, small dog. Not all were puppies, some were just small breeds. But a few puppies had just arrived from Puerto Rico, and two remained. 

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We immediately zeroed-in on Jessie. He was tan colored, with Yoda-like ears, warm eyes, and the sympathetic expression of a Salvation Army volunteer. He was 10 weeks old, healthy, and equipped to scavenge and beg, skills he’s put to use every day of his life. Now two years on, he’s a beloved member of our family with many qualities that remind me of Honey. Every day when I come home, he greets me just like Honey did my dad, and we engage in a feisty exchange about the sad state of the world. He even smiles through it all—such optimism. I’m so glad we adopted Jessie. He’s brought so much love to our family and has been so good for our boys. And his past, his mystery—and his mutt-ness—are huge parts of his charm. And much like Honey, sometimes I feel like he really adopted us.

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