“Perhaps we’ll get another dog,” I had written, what, three weeks ago? “Perhaps we’ll take a break from dogs for a bit…”

I have never, ever been the kind of person who goes out the following day, week, month or even year after losing a beloved pet and getting another one to help cope with the grief. I feel as though I should mourn — out of, I guess, respect for the years of devotion given to me. That bringing home a new puppy or kitten right away diminishes the memory of my prior soulmate.

At least, that’s the way it’s always been.

But then, six weeks after losing Rosie and perusing, as I do daily, all the lost and found pet Facebook pages corresponding to our upstate area, my heart stopped as I saw a photo of a caged puppy recently picked up and being housed at Greenville Animal Care that looked exactly like Bonnie, the Jack Russell we lost at 15 years old two years ago. And immediately below that, the next photo, which sent a shiver up my spine, showed her litter mate, who was the spitting image of Rosie.

“Paul,” I said, and turned my iPad around so he could see it, “Look.”

I didn’t have to say anything more. “Holy Cow,” he said. 

We looked at each other.

“It’ll mean separate vacations for another 15 years,” I said.

“And taking them out in all weathers,” he said.

We waited a beat. 

“Let’s go get them!” I said, and we made plans to drive to GAC the following morning.

However, the shelter was closed for emergency repairs and were absolutely, positively not going to adopt any dogs, under any circumstances, until the next day, Saturday. Which was impossible for us to do, as we had long standing commitments.

We left the dejectedly and stopped for lunch, mulling over our dilemma and quite sure someone else would choose them before we had the chance to adopt, because they were indeed adorable.

“Let’s go back and try one more time,” Paul suggested.

“They were very firm,” I replied. “We’re just going to irritate them.”

Paul waved my thoughts away with his hand. “Let’s just try.”

As fate would have it, there just happened to be an assistant who just happened to be the only one of her crew who chose not to leave and go to lunch that day. We told her our story, showed her photos of Bonnie and Rosie.

We weren’t trying to replace our dogs, we assured her, but, c’mon, look at these photos then look at these puppies — and we live on a farm and we work mostly from home and they’ll have a wonderful life.

In the end, our story captivated even her, and the puppies went home with us, with the understanding that we were fostering them for the five days the owners were given to claim them, as they were picked up as strays.

Of course, we fell in love as soon as the little doppelgängers were brought to our arms…even more startling was that they shared the same personalities: Bonnie was always alpha, Rosie was happily, devotedly subservient.

We took them home, put out puppy pads, rolled up the rugs, played, kissed and cuddled to all our hearts’ content.

Then, the morning of the fourth day, the phone call came. Their owners had arrived at the shelter looking for them.

The pups had gotten loose and had taken off. Paul, who took the call, texted me sadly, his heart sinking.

Arrangements were made to return them…and 20 minutes later, as I was getting into my truck at a local stable, holding back tears, a second text appeared:

“The owners are surrendering them!!!!! They wanted to find homes for them anyway!!!”

Our house is a wreck. They’ve already chewed a table leg and have hidden behind the drapes to pee. But we sink down on the sofa, pull the pillows out of their collective mouths and sit with armfuls of dogs.

And we wouldn’t have it any other way.

We will always love Bonnie and Rosie. Just as we will Poppy and Posie.