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We were on a mission; the Calgary Humane Society was our first stop.
Tammy, my wife, was looking for a dog to fill a void left by the loss of her faithful buddy, Gus, a tiny Schnauzer she'd brought with her from North Dakota.
As we walked down rows of enclosures occupied by canines of all descriptions, big, small and in-between, we had our work cut out for us. We didn't really know what kind of dog we were looking for. We just hoped something would turn up.

And there she was
A forlorn German Shepherd-Lab sat in her stall and, as I approached her, she leant her head against the grill and invited me to scratch under her ears. I was in love.
"This is the one, Tammy," I exclaimed. Tammy quickly shared my enthusiasm and we decided to adopt her. In hindsight, I sincerely believe it was Honey who adopted us.
Apparently, she had two previous owners. The first, who had her as a pup, was transferred out of town and was obliged to part with her.
The second brought her back within a three days on grounds she was uncontrollably belligerent towards the other dogs in the household.
Indeed, the Humane Society people warned us to keep her on a tight leash; that she simply went berserk at the mere sight of another dog. They expressed grave doubts about her ability to fit into any home (she'd been earmarked for euthanasia) and suggested I spend some time with her on their premises just to make sure. However, we had already made up our minds. Henceforth our new family member was going to be known as Honey. Her original name was Sandy but she accepted her new name with characteristic grace.
Initially, she was a little afraid of me. She'd cringe little when I approached her. We put this down to her unpleasant dealings with her previous male owner. Subsequent events were to bear out this suspicion. We could only show her love and kindness and hope for the best.
For her part, Honey effortlessly became part of the family. She made friends easily and everyone took to her. She responded by doing everything she could to please. We only had to say 'no!' to her once. She stopped defecating in the yard after Tammy told her not to only once . She'd hold herself until I took her out in the back alley, which I did on a regular basis.
I'd be up at the crack of dawn to exercise her and, thus, walked into her first gift to me. With a pocketful of what I called honeybags, I wandered the neighbourhood with her, and, in doing so, got to know, see, appreciate and enjoy a variety everyday sights: carefully and

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