A Bookshop Dog's Journal: Part VI

Four years ago today, Phoebe and I met; we adopted each other, and the bond grows day by day. It was a bitterly cold Friday. Phoebe left the shelter wearing a red-and-white-striped wool sweater rescued by a staffer from a heap of castoff garments. Phoebe wore that same sweater again today, a bitterly cold Wednesday. What was the fate of the dog whose sweater became Phoebe's? We'll never know. We hope that dog is still with us, safe and warm, with a spiffy new sweater and someone to love who loves that dog more than anything in the world.

Dogs who end up in shelters need more protection than sweaters, of course. So Phoebe's message today is simple: please adopt and please support the agencies that assist homeless animals. Phoebe sent her annual donation this morning. Is there a better way to celebrate our good fortune, Phoebe and I wonder, than by helping other dogs and people unite?

It's been a busy day for Phoebe. Squirrel patrol, a tennis ball rescue made daring by the weight of leaves and twigs beneath which the lost was found, and a full complement of bookshop duties. She had her naps, too, which are such appealing events that I feel reinvigorated just by being in the same room with my snoozing friend.

The forecast calls for our cold day to turn into an even colder night. Phoebe and I will bake dog biscuits. Embraced by that comforting aroma -- it ranks with chocolate and baking bread in the pantheon of classic kitchen pleasure scents -- we'll curl up with our favorite pillows and fleece throws and commune, with each other and some of the books we love best. I'll read aloud to Phoebe. She'll doze on and off and wake to ask with a sweet nuzzle for another story. She'll wear that sweater she wore out of the shelter on our bedtime walk. When I tuck her in for the night, I'll thank her, for on this special day a family was born four years ago. I’ll thank her for being my dog.