I’m told I was the pick of the littler. Or I could have been the one no one wanted. Either way, I was the last one left, and I was perfectly happy in Montana with my mom, my grandma and my cousins.
I don’t know why I was chosen to help create a service program for Young Angels, but here I am, in L.A. I might become a therapy dog, or maybe a competitive water jumper. I haven’t picked my major yet.
Right now, it seems overwhelming. I’m keeping this journal to share what I’m learning from my canine teachers and what I’m teaching my humans.