I hadn’t planned to write about a puppy today. The majority of my afternoon was spent walking the many lovely Bullies currently at the shelter (you can read about them in part II of this shelter dispatch).
But on my way out, I noticed a tiny little morsel of a dog, looking so small and vulnerable and perfect against the wall of the kennel. He could’ve been my dog.
The puppy is listed as a Doberman mix, and he bears an incredible likeness to Uno. Rich brown fur, light eyes, delicate in form and movement. And like Uno, he neither jumped around excitedly nor shrank back in fear when I entered his kennel for the first time. He simply sat there, waited for me to extend my hand, and gingerly licked it as he met my gaze.
We adopted Uno when he was roughly ten months old, and I’ve always wondered what his life had been like before he came into mine. Where he’d been born. Where’d he lived. How he came to wander San Francisco’s city streets alone.
But as I stroked this pup, I began to have a sense of who Uno could have been at two months of age. An old soul from the very beginning. With very lucky humans in his future.
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