Her Favorite Story

So appropriate that I would see this, as one of my favorite things to do is rub my sweet girl's head and tell the story of how we met.

March 2005, a bored post-college me decides to go by the Orange County Animal Rescue (aka- the pound) just to "look".
I walk past cages of smelly wonderful dogs, to find three little shepherd-chow pups, yipping and tumbling over one another: tan, black, and orange. The orange one cowers in the back corner as Tan and Black jump, lick, and chow down on the pound provided bulk dog biscuits. I scoot around to the back of the cage and put a bone down in front of the little orange pup. Black pounces and devours it. The rescue volunteer approaches me and asks if I'd like to take one of the puppies into a room to get to know it a little better. I say yes. Next thing I know, me and the little orange puppy are alone in a small room that faintly smells of animal pee.  She has the softest fur I have ever touched. The smallest black nose. Yearning eyes outlined with Cleopatra's eyeliner. I ask her, Are you my dog? Yes, she replies. I am your dog.

And she is.