This is Sasha (she's in my avatar as well). Some of you may be familiar.
We've always had strays (ok, some folks want to call them "rescues" these days, same deal)
and I've always had a pup or three around since childhood.
When my dad died Christmas morning 2010, my two longest-lived strays (both of whom arrived up on the ridge from somebody throwing them out on the highway down below, guided here by one of my current dogs!) Lady the border collie and Shorty the wonder beagle both passed within a few weeks of him soon afterward.
I was a mess, couldn't handle any more death. Even asked the wife if she felt ok...
Little did I know what was to come.
Wife decided a few weeks later she was going to the local shelter. I didn't want to go; I was done with all the heartbreak - and I knew if I actually stepped into the place, ALL the dogs would come home with us.
She went anyways and I accompanied her, more to keep her from doing anything...
I stayed out of the room where they kept all the dogs, leaned against the door frame and watched as she played with this one and that one, trying to put up with all the commotion and racket.
I felt a pair of eyes burning a hole in me and told myself not to look....couldn't help it, though.
There was Sasha in a cage right next to me, and among all that chaos, she sat quietly, staring at me, not even blinking.
My dad's words came to mind: "You don't pick the dog. The dog picks YOU."
Dammit, Pop always was right....
The attendant told us we didn't want her, said she had "food anger", said she didn't get along with other dogs at all and that she was slated to be put down because nobody wanted her.
Well, dammit......that did it.
Wild critter Sasha came home with us and has been here ever since; this is her place as much as it is either of ours.
She loves to go for rides, too. Insists on it, really.....and yes, she will destroy my heart one day soon when she's gone.