A puppy travels north to her new family as Covid-19 descends upon the East Coast. What could go wrong?
As far back as Christmastime, my wife, Tina, had begun saying, “We’re getting a dog.” Enough procrastination: “I’m getting a dog.” As each week passed, the conviction in her words grew until, inevitably, one day this led to a discussion on how we might incorporate the animal into the household. It made sense, we concluded, to wait until March, when our Connecticut winter went from lion to lamb.
As the weeks passed, Tina showed me online photos of prospective dogs—a deflating proposition, similar to humans posting photographs of themselves in personal ads. No dog should be subjected to those sorts of indignities, especially from his best friend.
Yet, in the end, there was no other way. We had to look at photos and whittle down candidates. Tina had her eye on an Arkansas…