ATLANTA -- After 27 years of marriage, my husband and I have started a second family: We adopted a dog.
I’m the last person that I’d ever expect to own a pet. Growing up as one of four siblings, with three cats and two dogs, our house was the loudest zoo in the neighborhood.
I was not interested in playing attendant to Babo, Chris, Pepe Kitty, Ms. Pac or Little Bit (so named because most of her tail got cut off in an incident with a paper cutter). The dogs were indifferent to walks, because they kept each other entertained. The only thing I got in return for changing the litter box, or popping open a can of stinky cat food, was Siamese and calico cat hair on my bed quilt.
