Then we realized our new friend was not a labrador puppy, but instead a grown dog of rather abstract and well-integrated origin. The shelter speculated she was six. Our vet later suggested she was two. We still do not know her age, but we call her our friend now.
The S.P.C.A gave our young foundling the name "Momma", because her appearance gives strong clues that she once bore puppies. We could not imagine calling her to us with "Momma! Momma! Come home!". We chose instead the name Beatrice, which we shorten at leisure to Bea or B.
Today marked one year that our friend Bea came to live with my wife and I and our other canine friend, Theodora. She's been a nearly unalloyed joy. I had always thought in theory that adopting a shelter pet was the "right" thing to do; now it seems to me something I will wish to do with each pet from here on in.
Tonight when I was not working-at-home, I was throwing the ball for Beatrice while the television screen was filled with yet another confirmation of my personal theory that the Heisman Trophy winner was not particularly deserving. The ballgame on television was over by half. Bea would be playing ball with me still, if she were not enjoying a well-deserved moment of relaxation.
Sometimes you make a friend and it all works out effortlessly and well. Beatrice is our true friend, and we're glad we've had a year with her enlivening our lives thus far.
