People mourn in different ways. For me, saying goodbye to our dog, Finn, was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I knew I loved him, but the level of pain was unexpected. Everything in the house felt empty and I kept thinking Finn would race out from the corner of the yard when he heard there might be a guest arriving. The tears kept coming and my stomach was sour. I swore I would never let our family get another dog.

That lasted a few days.

Then, I found myself pausing every time I saw a dog on TV or on the computer screen. I tried to picture what life would look like with another friend hanging out on the sofa and playing with Kee in the yard. But, it was too soon to jump into any spontaneous decisions.

It’s not like I was calling shelters or checking Petfinder. I wasn’t even talking to the family about the idea of getting another dog, I would just pause at the pictures of pups if they happened to stumble onto a screen.

Then, one face in particular made me pause a little longer, as if she was speaking to me. A local friend was posting on Facebook that she was fostering a puppy for Lost Paws Animal Rescue, “New foster pup. Six month old girl, hound mix with possible Italian Greyhound in there, getting over a skin condition. 20 pounds. Come and meet her, she needs kids!” Something about the eyes and those floppy ears. I shut off the computer.

Two days later, my friend posted another photo. This time I wrote a comment, politely asking my Facebook friend to stop sharing images of the unbelievably precious pooch that she was fostering. 

She asked, “hmm. If I took her for a walk in Newstead, where shouldn’t I walk past back and forth until you run outta the house… 😉” 

I laughed, walked away from the computer and then quickly returned to give my friend our address and tell her that I would be out front pulling weeds all afternoon. I told the family what I had done, expecting someone to be the voice of reason, but everyone seemed to think “just meeting a puppy” would be fine.

That was Monday.

An hour later we were all on the driveway playing with the puppy. She was lovely. That night I wrote my friend and asked if maybe the little pooch could come for a playdate the next day, “just to see”. I also wrote another friend who works for Lost Paws Animal Recovery and explained that we were filling out an application for the dog, “just in case.” 

Anna and I went to pick up the doggie Tuesday and my friend loaned us a crate, “just in case” we wanted to do a sleep over “just to see”. As we pulled away she said good-bye to the doggie.

I had a checklist for the visit. I needed to use my brain with this one — my heart couldn’t be trusted with her velvety floppy ears.

1. She must get along with Keegan

2. She must be (at least close to) housebroken

3. Not a huge barker

4. Jack needed to approve

As soon as she arrived, our visitor and Keegan frolicked in the backyard, stopping only to take a pee on the grass. When we brought her inside, she jumped onto Jack’s lap and sat there letting Jack rub her head. And, she didn’t bark, even when we put her in the crate for her “just to see” sleepover — I swear she wanted to make sure she was very clear to check every box.

I wrote both our friends the next day and told them that this magical pooch needed to be a Torrey.

The brief history we’ve been given is that she was raised in the family home in South Carolina where she’d been born, but she and her brother were recently taken to a shelter because their family was going through something and could no longer care of the pups. Lost Paws Animal Rescue rescued her from the shelter and brought her up to NJ last week. She is a six month old mutt and clearly has been well-cared for. Pretty housebroken, doesn’t bark or jump, just wants to play and cuddle. 

Her original name was Margaret and then my friend was calling her Ladybird or Birdie. We tried all three, but she didn’t respond. We played with other names all day, but there was one that seemed to suite her best. A Torrey doggie family name that happens to be Elvis Presley’s hometown, the name of a band we love (Uncle Tupelo), a delicious honey and a song by Van Morrison.

She’s as sweet at Tupelo honey

She’s an angel in the first degree

She’s as sweet as Tupelo honey

Just like honey from the bee

Welcome to the family Tupelo Torrey III

Love, Jess

Special thanks to Joe Rispo and Alia Covel and Lost Paws Animal Rescue for bringing sweet Tupelo into our lives.