We searched for a long time for Miss Percy. We tried the local shelters. We tried Petfinder. We tried the Penny Saver and, of course, craigslist. It was good old Google searching that proved successful in the end. We decided on a Golden Retriever, known for loyalty and good nature, it would be the perfect fit for us. We found the rescue organization, Homeward Bound Goldens, and filed the paperwork. When the representative came to the house to interview us, I asked the her how, among so many dogs in need, she found the right one. Her answer, a midst teary eyes, was simple: "The dog found me." Hun? What, did it pee on her leg? Did it vie for her attention? How would you really know the dog found you? Her answer seemed sentimental, and clearly had depth of meaning for her, but I really didn't get it. I had the dog resume check list ready: Good dog. Fetch toys. Don't bite. No fleas. Plays nice. Goes potty outside. Likes to wear the occasional costume for laughs and fun. Doesn't jump up on the couch. Walks well on a leash. Loyal and loving. I would find the right dog.
Miss Percy continues to bless our lives for over a year and a half now. She still likes her place of comfort under the dining room table. She still runs when there's a loud noise. But there's nothing like taking her out for a walk, or to the beach, or on a new hiking trail. That tail wags. Her long hair blowing in the wind, her tongue out to the side, smile on her face and light in her eyes. Adventure. Life. Breath. We have arrived, Miss Percy. We have arrived. I hope she feels it as much as I do.