Saving Grace

For years Carmen has been making noises periodically about wanting a dog. For exactly the same number of years, I have been resisting - nay, insisting that a dog was out of the question. I knew as well as I know my own name that if she got a dog, it would not be she who would take it for a walk in the pouring rain, the two feet of snow, the bitter cold. I was the primary caregiver to a human minister plus two high maintenance cats. Adding a dog to the family would serve to increase my workload by a huge margin. For years I just said no. Then came October 11th, 2012.

Two weeks after her fiftieth birthday, she texted me to say that there was a really cute dog, half yellow lab, half Bassett hound at the Humane Society, and would I please meet her there after work to ascertain whether I could find it in my heart to bring her home and let her into our lives. I did so, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Since that fateful day, I have been out in the pouring rain, the two feet of snow, and the bitter cold dozens of times each. She has pulled my sorry gimpy to self up the steepest hills and slipperiest slopes in a mile radius from our house. I hate it when I'm right.

Everybody in the neighborhood knows Grace. I am merely the piece of meat on the other end of the leash. She is the sweetest dog ever, loves every person and every dog she meets, and even enjoys playing chase games with the cats. (The cats are not quite as  in love with her. Remus is not at all amused) The very best feature of our puppy was that she came to us, at four months old, spayed and housebroken! It doesn't get any better than that.