Two years ago today, Sam and I drove to Sacramento to pick up a dog I had agreed to adopt, sight unseen. This was remarkable primarily because anyone who knows me at all knows that I detest surprises. Even on Christmas or my birthday. Life is full of enough unknowns...why take a risk when you don't have to?
I know I was still half-crazed from grief over losing my best friend and the disappearance of her cremains. And yet after several conversations with his family, and a huge leap of faith on my part, we found ourselves the proud parents of a stocky (ok, fat) seven-year-old Basset Hound, Rosco. We slapped an "e" onto his name and took him home. With barely a hiccup he slid right into our family, almost as if he'd always been there.
Roscoe, thank you for bringing so much love and pure devotion to us the past two years. You are such a source of joy to us that I can even forgive when you devoured $40 worth of cheese. Or an entire suet cake for the bird feeder. You are truly the most wonderful thing we have ever done as as family.
Roscoe and his jaunty green cast...he had a little surgery last week but is recovering nicely!