My kids and their boyfriend & girlfriend and I wandered the heartbreaking rows of outdoor cages at the Pasadena Humane Society. Many many soft faced pit bulls, German shepherds, corgi mixes, and all kinds of unknowable combos, plus one alligator, two chickens, a bunch of bunnies.
Our crowd thinned as members peeled off, each attracted by a different dog. I could barely meet all the beseeching, or resigned dog eyes as I dragged cage to cage feeling weepy.
And then I saw Wally.
Wally couldn't be less like Sweetie.
Sweetie was our ancient big black lab. Wally is a young, white, curly haired, poodle-ish looking, mid-sized muppet. Sweetie slayed us with her dark eyes. Wally has no discernible eyes.
Wally (who we named in the car on the ride between the pound and frozen yogurt celebration) is not just not Sweetie, he is also...his own Wally self, whoever that is.
We don't know anything about his political leanings, his taste in music... Will he torment our rabbit and Guinea pig? Does he dig up the garden? Escape and chase cars? Chew up shoes and books? Bark constantly? Growl at guests? Pee in closets? Knock over the garbage and spread it around? Choke on fish bones?
Well, we'll learn these and many otherwise unpredictable and no doubt lovable things about him, starting Tuesday when we bring him home.
Meanwhile, here is one more memorial picture of Sweetie, before the era of our boy Wally begins.
Time do march on, don't it?