First a lovely woman from Chicago fell in love with him, took him to her home and that same night discovered that she was allergic to him. We had our doubts: the vet wrote that he was a Shih Tzu and Shih Tzu’s do not shed. Maybe he laid cable on her side of the bedroom. Another woman, at the Pet Ministry dog adoption Sunday (in the rain and fog) wanted a lap dog. But she was enormously overweight and, to put it bluntly, had no lap. When she tried to fit Gizmo, who was wet and bedragled, on her lap, his legs draped over one side of her non-lap and his head over the other. She went home with a Chihuahua. Another woman, who held dozens of dogs, took him to her doggy farm for a week. No takers. Each time, Gizmo came back to us, had to be retrained and learn to fit in. Each time, Gizmo became less of a problem and more of a joy. Each time, we loved him more. I was madly in like with this dog from the moment I saw him (the way I was with Grace when I saw her at the cigarette machine at Northwestern University when she was a freshman, but that’s another story). Grace wasn’t sure, until one morning after Gizmo had had zero accidents for two weeks and was the most loving, accommodating, cute and beautiful dog in the world. Grace looked at me and said, “You know I love that dog.” We became a family.
“Yesterday I was a dog. Today I'm a dog. Tomorrow I'll probably still be a dog. Sigh! There's so little hope for advancement.” Snoopy, in You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown