I’m Sophie. I have lived with Wayne and Kate for four years. She says the two of us females are a lot alike. I don’t think so, except we both belong with Wayne.

I knew Wayne was special the first time I saw him.

My first person—the one who taught me to sit and heel—went away and left me with a neighbor. He took me to this big place smelling of dogs and cats, where they poked in my mouth and ears and under my tail. They gave me a bath and cut my hair.

Then they shut me in a glass room with yucky food and some water. The next morning, Wayne walked by. I scrabbled at the door to get his attention. He stopped to visit. Then he went away.

I was all alone again. I waited and waited. All day and all night.

In the morning Wayne came back. This time he brought Kate. She cuddled me and blinked back tears. He cuddled me. They went away. But they came back and gave me a ride to their house.

She says she knew Wayne was special, too, the first time she saw him. I had to wait for days, but she waited for years. Maybe Dog-Days equal People Years.

 

When we adopted Sophie, a Llasa Apso mix, she was confused and uncertain whether she belonged with us or would end up homeless again. She needed time to adjust.

Me, too. Where do I belong, really? In an early version of Sleeping Beauty, the heroine gives birth to twins in her sleep. For me, it was easier to fall into the roles of wife and mother—and later career—than to break free into my own personhood.

I have never outgrown my love of fairytales. It’s the transformations, not the magic, that intrigue me. In many, like Maid Maleen, locked in a tower for seven years, heroines receive the gift of time to grow into themselves.

Life can be a fairy tale. Just ask Sophie! She’ll tell you how her prince came along.