She had a beautiful coat.  Reddish like the sun and soft.  The kind of soft that defines the word.  Touch her and you know exactly what I mean.  But shy. And tentative.  I reached out to pet her and she backed away a bit. I knelt down and got on her level and let her smell my outstretched hand.  “She is so beautiful.”  I gushed.  “Thanks” said the woman holding the purple leash attached to the jeweled collar.  “What’s her name?”  I asked. “Honey” She responded. “Oh that’s a perfect name for her.  She’s the color of honey.” “And as sweet as honey, too” she said.

Before I knew it, Honey had her head buried in my lap.  Frozen, almost afraid to move for fear that I’d stop stroking her, she stayed buried between my legs for more than a few minutes.  “I just lost my dear Maggie three weeks ago” I told this stranger, obviously a dog lover too, but for no apparent reason I just blurted it out the pain that lived within me.  Talking was a coping mechanism to deal with the grief. Maggie was a trusted, albeit bossy,  family member in the form of a Beagle.  “Oh, I’m sorry” the stranger said.  “Yeah, well my other beagle, Enzo, is here getting his ears cleaned so at least I still have one more.” “Mmmhmmm” she said in reply trying to be both cordial and understanding without really using words.  Sometimes just sounds suffice. As a dog lover, I’d learned that years earlier.

“So, how old is Miss Honey?”  I said trying to get back to safe, neutral ground.  “Actually, I don’t know.  I am just fostering her.  She was found wandering the streets of Fredericksburg and no one adopted her at the county shelter, so our organization took her so that she wasn’t euthanized.”   “Mmmm” I replied, stealing her cordial line.  “Are you interested in her?  she asked.  “I can’t.  I mean she’s beautiful, and so very sweet, but we’re still grieving Maggie and we are moving to Mexico in a few weeks.  My life is chaos right now, but she sure is beautiful and sweet.”  “Well, let me give you my number in the event that you change your mind.” 

And with Enzo safely in the front seat of my Accord, clean ears and all, I drove down Columbia Pike and dialed Peter.  “Hey, I think that I found the most beautiful dog for us.”  I said, without so much as even saying hello first.  “What?” he said.  “Yes, well, her name is Honey and she is a beautiful lab/hound mix.  You should see her though.  She’s reddish in color -- like Maggie, and oh so soft, but bigger and shyer. “  “You’re crazy.”  Peter said in reply.  “Yeah, I know we can’t adopt her but there was just something about her.  Anyway, I got the woman’s number that is fostering her, but I agree that it’s crazy.  We’ll be home soon.  Enzo’s sleeping after getting his mani/pedi and his ears cleaned.”

Next I called Hilary.  A fellow animal lover that was dealing with her Bichon “Dot” and chemotherapy.  “Hey, Hil you’ll never guess what just happened.”  I said all in one breath.  “Tell me, dumbass” she said. We have a tendency to use derogatory names with each other as a term of endearment.  Perhaps it’s odd, but somehow it feels loving, kind of how siblings or old married couples treat each other. I relate the whole love story of how I saw Honey from across the room and how she’d endeared herself to me the instant I felt that soft coat and looked into her big, brown eyes. Hil responded, “Oh, you have to rescue her.  She’s meant for you.”  But I held fast to my line, “Yes, but I’m not over Maggie, we’re moving in three weeks, and have you noticed that my life is in a bit of chaos?”  “Yeah, well, when isn’t it, you stupid shit.  Go get that dog” she practically screeched at me.  “OK, well, I’ve got to go.  Shouldn’t be talking on the phone while driving.  Just wanted to tell you about the girlie girl.  I’ll send you a picture from my phone.  Of course, I took a few of her.” 

Finally, home from Annandale, which when you live in the city center, feels more like Siberia.  Enzo, delighted to be king of his castle again, literally runs up the stairs to the back door, despite being fourteen.  Fumbling for my keys, I can hear the phone ringing but can’t open the door in time because Enzo has encircled me in his leash.  Hog tied might be a better description, but I twirl around hoping the neighbors aren’t looking from their upstairs sunroom.  Untied and free I manage to get finally get inside.  “Hey, I’m home."  I unhook Enzo’s leash as he’s happily lapping up water not caring that he’s splashing it all over the tile. I look up and see the message light blinking.

“HI, this is Honey.  I’m calling for Frank. Frank, please adopt me.  I need a home and I think you love me.”  Hilary’s Southern accent gives her away as I’m sure that despite being found in Fredericksburg, Honey is a northern girl given her shyness - not withstanding the fact that she had her head in my lap within thirty seconds.  “Oh my God, that woman is crazy” I tell myself as I laugh and think some more about how beautiful Honey actually is.

The next morning, Peter, Elias and I are off to Lowe’s to get a myriad of household items required to make the house suitable for the renters that will occupy our house in a few weeks.  “Hey, do you think that I should call that woman with the dog?” I casually say to Peter as we stroll through the garden section looking for a gardenia to match the one that died in our front yard under the Dogwood tree.  Why we thought a second one would do better is a rhetorical question, but in our rush to make everything perfect, it seemed that getting another one was the easiest thing to accomplish.  “Sure, give her a call, if you want” Peter replies somehow already resigning himself to the fact that we’re likely to have another dog soon.

Honey arrived at 6:03 pm on Saturday, April 7, 2007 weighing in at a mere 46 pounds.  She was just coming for an overnight visit -- to test things out.  Again, shy, she stepped lightly and cautiously across the threshold of our rowhouse and tried to immediately find a place to be inconspicuous.  Curled up on Enzo’s bed which was twice as small as she was, she looked more stressed than she had in the vet’s office.  “She’ll adjust, but just give me a call if you need anything” her foster mom said. “OK, I’m sure we’ll be fine, but I’ll call you in the morning and we can arrange a time for you to come pick her up.” I said.  So, as we discussed, I called in the morning. Odd that she wasn’t there I had to leave a message. “Hi, this is Frank.  I’m just calling to say that we had a great night with Honey.  She has some quirks, like not wanting to leave the house for any reason, but honestly I can’t imagine my life without her. So, you don’t need to come pick her up.  Just let me know where to send the donation to the organization for rescuing her.  She’s beautiful and already a part of the family.”  

Enzo was in denial.  He’d lived thirteen years under Maggie’s rule and was enjoying his new found freedom from female tyranny. I promised him that it would be different with Honey.  That he’d be the top dog. That we’d make it clear to Honey that he was to be respected. Always one of few grunts and fewer emotions, he turned away from me, jumped up on the couch, and promptly turned his rear end toward me.  “Naptime.  You’ll deal with the bitch.  She probably needs a walk.  Good luck getting her out the door.”  is what I imagine he wanted to say to me.

But I took it in stride and went over to my new girl. My new love.  I couldn’t help but pet her some more before coaxing her out of the door.  She wouldn’t budge.  She was home and knew it.  Why leave? I had to carry her over the threshold, as it were, but I didn’t mind.  She was my girl.