Three years ago today, Tim and I traveled to a gorgeous farm in Indiana to go look at two tiny puppies named Mitzie and Tonka. I had seen their photos on Petfinder.com earlier in the week, and I'm sure the woman fostering them thought I was crazy. I think I called at like, 8am. Ha. Desperate, much? Well, dog ownership is a lot like finding The One. When you know, you know.
For some reason, I had it in my head that we needed a boy. A husband, so to speak, for our Dear Noel. Knowing what I know now, Noel would have had NONE of that business. Noel, a wife? Goodness no. She is much too independent and fabulous for such nonsense.
We spent some time with Tonka, but he was pre-occupied. The garage...the grass...other dogs. I remember he ran. A lot.
And then it happened.
Tim crouched down and clapped excitedly, trying to entice The Boy to come have a chat.
From the corner of my eye, I saw a streak of white lightning.
It was Mitzie. His sister.
Tim petted her gently and she nuzzled up close.
It was love.
After a few minutes together, we decided to name her Scarlett for her orange-y/ Red spots.
And then she proceeded to both pee and vomit on me on the way home in the car.
Happy "Gotcha Day" to Scarlett Clementine.
We love you lots and lots
Love and do we know how to pick em' or what?
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