Once there was a little girl who was waiting.
She wanted a dog.
And though it’s not grammatically correct to say this, there’s no other way.
She wanted a dog real bad.
She wanted a dog so much that she would watch out her bedroom window for her neighbor to come home so she could go knock on his door and ask to play with his dog. Often.
She wanted a dog so much that she cried in her bed at night, begging her mom and dad to relent. Too often.
She wanted a dog so much that at four years old, she got on her mommy’s iPhone, opened the her mommy’s blogging app, created a New Post, titled it simply “Dog” and hit publish. She got 99 comments.
She wanted a dog so much that she wrote about it in kindergarten.
It wasn’t that the girl’s mom and dad didn’t want her to have a dog—they just wanted her to have the right dog.
They wanted her to have a dog that wasn’t too big or too small.
They wanted her to have a dog that wasn’t too old or too young.
They wanted her to have a dog that the girl could rescue—a dog that needed the love of the girl as much as she needed to give it to him.
One day, not so long ago, the girl visited the animal shelter, only to leave once again disappointed.
So her daddy, being the sweet man that he is, took her to the Farmer’s Market to get a snow cone.
There at the market, between kale and kettle corn, was a little booth ran by another local shelter, this one just for dogs.
It was there, snow cone in hand, that the girl met the dog.
It was a forever kind of love.
The girl and her daddy raced to the shelter’s office to put a hold on Sparky.
They were first in line.
Sparky had to have a little “work done” before he was ready to come home.
But the girl was used to waiting.
And then, suddenly, the wait was over.
Sparky came running home.
Where he belonged all along.
Where he’s always been wanted.
Where he’s already loved.
And is already giving love back.
Welcome home, Sparky.
You’re our dream come true, too.