Izzy

When Izzy came to us, she wasn’t much of a dog.  More of just some skin and bones (literally).  She had soul, and she had love, but physically, she was nothing.
Actually, I need to back track.  She didn’t come to us, she came to Elizabeth.  I was out of town when she officially became the dog of the house.
I am not sure exactly the dates, or how got to that point, but I remember the day we met Izzy well.  Elizabeth and I went to the shelter to look at options, but Elizabeth had said that she didn’t want a dog right then.  Walking through the halls of the shelter, looking at the dogs in their cages was intimidating to say the least.  Hundreds and hundreds of dogs barking at us.  Collies, Pit Bulls, Labs, everything you could imagine.  But there, in the corner of a too small cage with another too active dog was this little doughnut of whitish tan fur.
I looked over at Elizabeth, and I think at that moment she knew that I wasn’t leaving without that dog.  We asked to take her out for a little walk around the grounds of the shelter.  Izzy was dirty, smelly, skinny.  Basically everything you don’t want in a dog.
And yet, she seemed perfect.  She walked with us that cold January afternoon, shivering, while Elizabeth and I talked about whether it was a good idea to take her.  We were sitting at a picnic table I remember Elizabeth saying “I don’t think she’ll make it home”.  I basically told her that if she didn’t take Izzy, I would have to.  At that moment Izzy trotted over (she has a tendency of doing that) and propped her head on my knee.
You can’t write a cheesier scene than that.