Our new foster puppy Shae arrived at the Farnival two nights before Dessie died. I’ve thanked this gray and white puppy a thousand times for coming into my life this week. I may have lost my shaggy shadow but I’ve gained a smaller, unsure version with the goofiest ears on the planet. There is nothing that relieves grief like a klutzy chunk of cuteness stumbling after me.
Just like her namesake, Shae is lovely, independent, and vulnerable. She has white eyelashes, an underbite, and no interest in peeing anywhere besides inside the house. At night, when the cicadas, frogs, and crickets are chirping like it’s a rock concert, she’ll sit by the door and cock her head. She won’t go outside in all that clatter.
As far her name, we’ve decided to switch things up, and go with a Game of Thrones theme for all unnamed foster dogs. I was a fan of George R. R. Martin’s books long before the HBO series, so I know last season deviated from his tale. But, holy poop, it was freaking awesome. I have one lingering question about the finale, where the hell was Jon Snow’s Direwolf Ghost when his brothers pulled a Caesar?
Timing is everything, and Shae Daisy got to the Farnival at just the right moment.