Napoleon was a rebound dog. Two weeks after my thirteen-year-old cat died from cancer, I headed for the animal shelters in Manhattan to find a replacement. My boyfriend at the time took the bus with me up First Avenue to Bide-a-Wee. He was drawn to the macho dogs. We test-walked a Boxer and two Pit mixes, who were all good looking and sweet, but not easy to handle. I noticed Napoleon curled up in a cage in a room with other small dogs. We stared at each other-the dog and I-and I asked if I could walk him. He seemed depressed, but there was something about how he looked in my eyes without averting his gaze that revealed so much. My boyfriend said, "Any dog but that one." Once we were walking outside on East 38th Street, near the East River, I fell in love. Napoleon (known as "Chummy" in the shelter) was independent and intelligent, yet also completely responsive to me and the leash. He held his head and tail high. He is a Corgi/Spaniel mix, short and long body, brown and white soft hair with freckles and spots. He was ten months old, and had been homeless his whole life. I adopted him on the spot. He was not yet neutered, and ended up staying in the shelter with a fever for another month, before they finally agreed to do his required surgery. I rode the bus for an hour and a half every day for thirty days to take Napoleon for a short walk. I wanted him to know that he had me for good. He still does.

Laura Sue Phillips
Brooklyn, NY