"There were plenty of reasons not to do it and I had always talked myself out of it, convinced there would be a better time for it. Yet on March 3, 2011, I found myself at a pet rescue, walking in the door still not entirely convinced getting a dog was a good idea. I'm just going to look, I told myself. See what they have. Maybe they wouldn't even have any."
"He was a short and a bit chunky Chi, and in a sea of Chihuahuas he stood out. He was almost solid black with a white blaze on his chest, and when I met his eyes, I knew there was no way I was leaving without him. I paid the adoption fee, bought him a purple collar and leash, and got a new, sturdy carrier. They said his name was Kennedy, but I already had chosen a different name for him. He was Bailey."
I walked into a pet rescue on March 3, 2011, uncertain about adopting but intent only to look. I had always delayed getting another dog, waiting for a perfect moment that never arrived. I had loved a tawny Chihuahua named Pandora who listened to my secrets, and I had long held the idea of getting another Chihuahua despite adult life favoring cats. In a room of fourteen Chihuahuas, one short, chunky, almost solid black dog with a white chest blaze caught my eye. I adopted him, renamed him Bailey, paid the fee, bought a purple collar and a carrier. At home he vomited, marked a kitchen cabinet, and revealed an aversion to car travel and carriers.
Read at www.mercurynews.com
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