Before we took you home, we drove you to the nearest PetSmart to buy you all the essentials: food dish, leash, collar, kibble, annoying squeaky toys with which you’d torment us for years to come.
The PetSmart employees found you adorable — and why wouldn’t they? Between your soft, white-and-brown fur; your velvety years; and your pathetic, please-love-me eyes, what could anyone do but succumb to your cuteness?
When we got home, we didn’t hesitate to introduce you to your sister. Bella, five years your senior, has always possessed such a tender and kind soul that we didn’t worry for an instant that she would, in a fit of jealousy, rend you with her sharp teeth or try to stuff you into the garbage disposal. Fortunately, our instincts proved correct.
You and Bella touched noses, inspected one another’s rear ends, captured each other’s scents, then proceeded to bound through the living room, galivanting as though your fifty-pound weight difference did not exist. Your father and I watched with delight as Bella introduced you to her favorite toys, nipped delicately at you when you bit her with your razor-sharp puppy teeth, and led you toward the water bowl near the kitchen.