I have been blessed with the acquaintance of two of the best friends a guy could ask for. In return for their friendship and loyalty, I see to it that they have what they need. It pains me to see them suffer, and their joy fills me with gladness. One of them, Otis, I have known since he was a puppy, and am ridiculously fond of him. I truly could not ask for a better dog; he seems to live for pleasing me, and probably cannot remember life before we met. He gets upset at the sight of a dead bug, and views everyone as his friend.

The other, Katie, is a different breed altogether. When Otis was a year old, he became increasingly distressed when my wife and I had to leave him home alone. "Time to get him a companion", I announced one day, and began searching the classifieds for his soulmate. I glossed over an ad for a Lhasa Apso Rescue, but the fine print caught my eye: "Also have female Lab-Shepherd mix, free to good home". I felt ours qualified, so I grabbed Otis, we jumped in the truck, and drove over to the rescue, during which I tried to get him excited about the possibilities of a great romance.

The woman who answered the door squinted at me suspiciously as she puffed on her cigarette, and nodded at me to follow her out to the barn behind the house. Once inside, she instructed me to wait by the door, and disappeared into the depths of the barn. I could hear chains being rattled and a faint whimpering, and she returned with some form of decrepit canine slinking behind her. I wasn't sure what kind of dog she was, but I knew she had about as much Labrador blood in her as I do, and that she hadn't had a bath or a decent meal in some time. She was visibly shaken.

I asked the woman about the dog's history, and she informed me that her name is Katie, that she had been loved, but her family had been through a nasty divorce and no one could keep her. "How long has she been here?", I asked. "A coupla' months, I guess", was her reply.

I was looking for the dog you see on the dog food bags, frolicking on the lawn with the family - not this poor wretch. I started to tell her "Thanks, but no thanks," but I heard my mouth say "I'll take her". I put Otis in the back of the truck and let Katie ride in the cab with me, and watched her tremble all the way back to our house. What had I done?

When we got home I let them both out in the backyard to "get acquainted", where Katie immediately attacked Otis with a ferocity that must have been building for a coupla' months, I guess. I had to stop her from killing him, thereby redirecting her anger at me. I'd never been in a fight with a dog before, but I managed to pin her on her back, where we spent the next half hour establishing the hierarchy of the household. This scene would be repeated several times over the course of the next few months, and I began to lose hope that she would ever become a member of our family.

One night, in utter frustration at her belligerence, I took her to the local animal shelter to leave her in the "night deposit" kennels. I climbed inside one of them with her (careful to keep the door from locking us both in!), and tried to explain why I was doing what I was doing. I tried to tell her that I wanted nothing more than to give her a good life, to help her know as much joy as a dog can possibly experience, but that I couldn't do it without her cooperation. I told her that if she was to know freedom that she had to trust me, and learn to listen to me. She seemed to know why we were there, and recognized the wailing of the other dogs in the shelter. She layed her head in my lap and began to lick my hand.

It was a turning point in our relationship. I began to see her for what she was, more scared than truly mean, and I think she started to see me as her benefactor, with her best interest in mind. Over the years she has grown into a beautiful animal, as loving and loyal as Otis is, and prone to frolick with us in the backyard. I love them in equal measure. I see in one a being who has never known anything but security, and in the other a creature who savors life a little more, for she has tasted more of it. Much as God sees me, I imagine…