It happened fast. I don't have any deadlines this week and I'm not actively writing on the novel. The economy is nose-diving. The print industry is reshuffling hourly. I have the time and now's as good a time as any. I work at home. My husband, Tom, works at home.
Friday Tom and I thought we'd found a dog we liked for our family. It was a Welch Springer Spaniel mixed with who knows what else available for adoption through ARF--Animal Rescue Foundation out in the Hamptons.
Saving something or someone is always a good thing to me.
So, after advice from our friend Mark who fund raises for ARF, we heard the Springer Spaniel was bigger than we'd have liked and she was spoken for already. BUT, two Clumber Spaniel mixes--a brother and sister, 10 week old--would be available Saturday morning. Come fast. Spaniels go quickly. We didn't tell them and packed the kids up, blankets and all. "Just lets go for a ride." We drove deep into the country of Long Island, past the Pine Barrens and wine vineyards to a well-kept ARF to "visit" Mark and maybe pet some puppies and leave, as we've been known to do.
Jude was all white and jumpier of the two. He barked loud and bared his little baby teeth scaring Melanie too much. Her name was Tracey. She was white sprinkled with carmel coloring on her ears, head and spotted nose. She was sweet, trying to run away from Jude and trembled as I held her.
"Pick one," we said to the delight of the children. It was an easy, unanimous choice as well as picking her name--Daisy Buchanan--from Fitzgerald's Great Gatsby. (Well, to me.) She's Daisy Delilah to the children. (They love Plain White Ts song Hey There Delilah.)
We all fell in love and signed the papers making her our official first family dog.
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