It was on August 3, 2000 that my (then) wife spotted Bella trotting into an intersection. As the stoplight turned green, signaling the waiting traffic to proceed forward toward the hapless little stray, my ex rushed out into the open space and waved her arms at the cars to urge them to wait. The stack of cars balked, grudgingly — this being Los Angeles, where even momentary impediments to traffic are greeted with disproportionate ire, and more specifically East L.A., where stray dogs are a dime a dozen.
“C’m'ere, doggie! C’m'ere!” she urged.
The skinny little pup turned and trotted straight toward the invitation, tail wagging. She clearly lacked the skittish trepidation of the average street cur. She reached my ex, who had retreated to the sidewalk and crouched down to receive her. Just as she still does today, the dog we would call Bella took immediate advantage of this access to a human lap and commenced giving dog kisses.
Loaded into the back seat of her rescuer’s ’88 VW Fox, the gray mongrel lay down as though she’d just run a marathon. Read the rest of this entry »
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