I shook my head. “A security system and a dog should help. With Ali gone, I need to be able to stand on my own two feet.”
“As long as you know that my offer still stands.”
A shelter volunteer cleaning out a kennel ahead of us smiled in our direction. She was middle aged with wavy, gray-streaked curls. “Are you looking to adopt?”
“Yes, I hope so,” I answered.
“What kind of animal are you looking for?”
“I was thinking of a big dog.” My gaze caught on a large brown dog with patches of white and black sitting in the corner of its kennel wearing a forlorn expression.
“That’sBinti,” the volunteer said as she came to stand beside me. “She’s a hound mix and a sweetheart.”
Lulu’s mouth twisted. “She looks so sad.”
“Her owner was a woman in her forties who was deported suddenly,” the volunteer informed us. “Poor girl has had a lot of upheaval and loss in a short period of time.”
I could relate. “Can I pet her? Is she friendly?”
“She’s very loving toward women, especially those who are the same age as her original owner. But she’s very barky around strangers who trespass on her territory.”
“Sounds like the perfect companion,” I quipped. “Sweet to me and mean to strangers is exactly what I’m looking for.”
“Amen,” Lulu said. “She basically needs a security dog.”
“This sweetheart is all bark and no bite,” the volunteer assured me. “Mostly.”
“As long as she seems scary, that’ll work.” I approached the dog, holding out the back of my hand so she could sniff me.
“Are you sure?” Lulu asked. “She seems so sad. Owning her could be depressing.”
“Who better than me to understand what she’s going through?” I tentatively petted the dog’s soft head. “What did you say her name is?”
“Binti,” the volunteer repeated.
Lulu chuckled. “Binti? Seriously? Maybe it’s fate.” We exchanged a laugh. In Arabic, “Binti” meant “my girl” or “my daughter.”
The volunteer brought the pup out to a general play area where we could interact with her. I sat on the floor with crossed knees and smiled, talking toBintiin a gentle, encouraging voice. The dog immediately came over and licked my hand.
“Look at that,” the volunteer crooned. “She went right to you.”
Even Lulu was amused. “It’s love at first sight.”
The feeling was mutual. After Hummus, I hadn’t wanted another dog because I didn’t want to clean up after it and worry where to board the animal when we went out of town. But all those concerns went right out the window whenBintipractically sat on my lap, stretching out and propping her chin on my knee. Petting her with long, slow strokes, I was overwhelmed with tenderness for this poor baby girl who’d suddenly lost everything.
“What do you say, girl?” I murmured. “Do you want to come home with me?”
“I hope it’s OK that I came by,” Nasser said the day after I adoptedBinti.
“Of course.” I invited him in, always happier when another person was in the house with me. “You said on the phone that you have an update?”
Binticame running around the corner, erupting in animated barking when she spotted Nasser.
“Whoa.” He backed away. “What is that?”
“Meet my new dog,Binti.” I ran a hand over her silky head. “Good girl.”
“When did you get a dog?”
