The One-Year Anniversary.

It's been exactly a year since Dave and I went to the ASPCA, stupidly thinking we were just going to "look" at the dogs. Everyone, including us now, knows you don't windowshop for dogs. Especially not dogs that are as beautiful as Nahe.

It's been a year since we took one look at her and fell in love, ignoring any and all warnings about her behavioral difficulties.

It's been a year since the ASPCA trainer brought her into a room with us, and the third thing she did, after sniffing and running the entire perimeter of the room, was fling herself headlong into both of our laps and lick any inch of our skin she could get her tongue on.

It's been a year since we discovered many a helpful thing like: oh shit, we have a dog, we better go buy somewhere for her to sleep, and something for her to eat, and something for her to eat from--as well as the also-helpful hey-did-you-know-that-dogs-aren't-allowed-in-the-subway-unless-in-a-carrier factoid.

It's been a year since we took her home and set her up and nervously eyed her as she nervously eyed us, and then Dave left for work, and I spent a very sleepless night on the fold-out couch with this dog, who had whined and cried and pawed at the french doors when I tried to lock her away from me for sleep. Every time I shifted on the uncomfortable fold-out couch, she got up and sniffed at me, and stared at me in the dark, and then curled herself closer. Here I was trying to sleep next to a semiwild animal I had just met, not sure that when I closed my eyes, she wouldn't try to eat my face. I was terrified.

It's been a year since she did not eat my face, and she still has not eaten my face. I am glad.

Happy Anniversary, little furry darling. I celebrate you and the multitude of ways you make me remember joy.