Sophie

It was - to paraphrase a famous literary line - a gray and stormy day, only in the 40's with a nasty wind and rain coming down in sheets. Sitting in the middle of the street - well, huddled would be more accurate - was one of the most pitiful sights I had ever seen, a small white dog, drenched to the bone and shaking like a leaf, sitting in the pouring rain and crying softly. When I knelt and called her, she came running across the grass timidly and I gathered her up and brought her inside, ran warm water in the bathtub and dumped her in. From their kennels, my own dogs let loose an ear splitting stream of protest and abuse but I was committed. I removed her collar and tags, shampooed her thoroughly and dried her off with a soft brush and the hair dryer, gave her water and a dish of food. The cats circled warily, curious but cautious, while the dogs went loudly mad with excitement.

Her tags gave me her name - Sophie - and her address and telephone number, several blocks away. After leaving a message for her owners, I settled her on the couch with my own dogs. There was much pushing and shoving but no growling or biting and after several minutes, all three dogs were sleeping peacefully - remarkably! - nose to nose. Sophie's owner arrived not long after and I handed her over almost but not quite reluctantly, hoping that it was a one time thing, hoping that they were good people who wouldn't really neglect her or be careless with her. I always want to hope that.