Tom follows you to the room where you keep all the one-year-and-under dogs. "We don't euthanize any of our pets," you tell Tom. "It's one of the reasons I love working here."

Tom looks over at each of the large metal crates that the animals are kept in. Each has their own comfy bed, bowl of food and water, and a toy to play with. He smiles to himself, scratching at a few of the dogs through their crates. "I don't know how anyone could live with themselves to kill any of these darlings," he mutters as one of the littler dogs licks his fingers.

You smile at the sight and Tom's words. "Neither can I. I couldn't live with myself. Luckily, most of the dogs here get adopted within a few months."

"That's fantastic," Tom exclaims as he scratches the ear of a little cocker spaniel. 

"I agree." You pause. "Do you want any particular kind of dog?"

Tom stands and shoves his hands into his pockets. "I'm not particular. I just wanted a dog. I didn't realize you had so many. I want them all." I laugh, and Tom grins widely. "Wait, I have an idea. Who has been here the longest?"

A name instantly comes to your mind. "I know just the dog! Follow me." You grab Tom's hand and drag him to a crate across the room. You stop in front of a six-month-old blue-nosed pit bull. "She's one is one of my favorites," you tell him, letting go of his hand with a blush.

Tom bends down to the dog's level. She gets up and wags her tail. I open the crate, and the puppy attacks Tom with kisses. He sits down, cross-legged, and pets her while laughing. "Hello, darling! You are adorable!" He turns to you. "What's her name?"

To Be Continued...