When the groomer appeared, she showed me a little dog who looked more like a sheep. He was all gray hair—a bushel of it—with a black nose and chestnut-brown eyes that could barely be seen under a thick curtain of eyebrows. I wasn’t sure what to make of him. But he was kind, and while I didn’t have a leash or collar with me, I didn’t need one. He followed me out the door happily, hopping into the front passenger seat of the car, and that was that. We were together. I was his, and he was mine.
