At long last I finally found a basset! She's a tri-color (mostly black with a white streak on her back), 3 1/2 years old, and a real sweetheart. A petite little thing, she looks for the world like our Daisy, but her personality is totally opposite of hers, fortunately. Not to speak ill of the dead, Daisy had some dominance issues that made living with her a challenge for all of us. This dog seems to have none of those problems. She received a passing grade on behavior from those who evaluated her at the SPCA, where I adopted her this afternoon. Yesterday I was going to make the pound rounds again in search of a dog but it was too close to closing time. When I got home, I decided to try calling the SPCA once more on the outside chance that they had taken in a basset over the holidays. I was told one had come in that very afternoon and they couldn't hold her over the phone (they'll only hold a dog four hours) but to be out there at opening time the next day. I was there with bells on at 11:00 when the doors opened. I stood out in the freezing wind waiting. I wasn't going to let this one get away. Something kept telling me this time it would all work out perfectly and that she was meant for me.

I bonded with her immediately, and she was very affectionate toward me. I just knew she was the one the minute I saw her. She kept coming over to me and planting herself between my legs and looking up at me adoringly. I showered her with kisses, which she seemed to appreciate--I imagine she's had few enough of those in her life thus far. I took Bubba out to the shelter to meet her, and they got along fine, although the rude, stubborn staff member who thought she knew my dog better than I do almost screwed up their meeting by pulling on his leash, which sometimes makes him get a little testy. He socializes better with other dogs when he's off the leash, but she had a hissy fit when I took him off the leash in the room with the little basset. I can understand the reasoning behind introducing them on leash, especially since someone's Lhasa had been attacked by a Rottweiler off leash out front of the shelter earlier that morning. I've not seen too many attack bassets in my experience with the breed, but you never know what their background has been. I'm pretty good at reading dogs, though, and I saw no signs of trouble from either dog. The woman really did not have to be so argumentative and confrontational with a potentional adopter, though. She was very off-putting, not only to me but other visitors, and I was glad when she left me with the other pleasant staff member. Making the adoption process more pleasant for people might help them adopt out more dogs, and after I have taken possession of my dog, I intend to write a letter to them about my adoption experience there. Anyway, Bubba and Belle (I think that's what I'll call her) didn't pay a lot of attention to each other in the play yard, but I expect they'll get better acquainted when she comes home tomorrow after her surgery. I hope there are no complications as there were with one of my bassets, Dolly, who later died from a botched spay procedure.

This has been the most perfect Christmas ever. I got everything I hoped for: Maxwell nominations, a white Christmas at Tahoe, and best of all, another basset to love.