How I Met My Other

The Fox and the Hound

By Kristin Durfee

She stares at me, unblinking, as the small creature bites her neck. And feet. And ears. And tail.

Weren’t we perfectly happy, you and I? she asks me with her eyes.

“Baby girl,” I say, kissing her three times behind the ear. “This is going to be so much fun. You’re my best friend and now I got you a best friend—a little brother!”

Her eyes narrow in annoyance as the little one bites on her lip and hangs there, his little nubby tail going a mile a minute.

I never planned on having a two-dog house. My husband had clamored for another pet for years, but I’d always fought it.

“We have the most special princess in the whole world. Why do we need another dog?” That was my argument.

Okay, I think highly of my dog, but it’s true! Newport is incredible. A hound-dog mutt of unknown origin whom we rescued from a puppy mill in Tennessee when her litter was only two weeks old. She came to us knowing a handful of tricks, and she quickly mastered more. Our first year went smoothly. We powered through the training, and while she had some tummy issues, Newport was the perfect puppy.

Then, at Christmas, she ate every ornament on our tree.

I guess we can’t all be perfect.

 Our Grinch dog brought us joy for the next few years. We ran, went on walks, swam, and hiked in Georgia and in the Ocala National Forest.

Each Christmas she ate every ornament she could get her paws on, but really, I can overlook a single fault that comes only a few weeks of the year.

As my husband and I worked, we worried Newport was lonely at home all day by herself. Plus, we were planning to add a two-legged kid to our mix and didn’t want her to feel neglected when the baby arrived.

I began to warm up to the idea of another dog when I walked into my local PetSmart to get Newport some food.

There he was.

When I tell you this dog was stinking cute, it’s an understatement. Kids surrounded his crate, reaching their fingers in, and his eyes closed in pleasure as he pushed into them, trying to get as close as possible. He looked like a miniature, tail-less German Shephard and was aptly named Foxie. I immediately fell in love and sent a picture of him to my husband, who was traveling for work. He responded instantly.

Get him.