The rescue that gave me Roxy posted an urgent Facebook plea about a dog they’d just pulled from a Philly shelter. Broken jaw, courtesy of a swift kick. Lost an eye because of it. Within days of surgery, he was be-bopping around in the vet’s videos like nothing had ever happened.

The the foster started posting recovery updates about how this 12-pound “schnauzer-like” mutt was the sweetest thing on four legs. I’d already downsized form 90 pounds to 80 to 70. Now a tiny dog? How hard could that be?

Roxy and I drove up to Annapolis to meet him. They sniffed, shrugged, called it good enough. I loaded him into the car and drove him home to Richmond.

He acclimated fast. Big sister Roxy showed him the ropes. Within a day, my Facebook poll had already dumped “Leo” for One-Eyed Jack and he answered to it like he’d had the name his whole life.

Turns out the dogs made great walking partners. Roxy’s joints have her down just enough the Jack can actually keep pace. What I learned fast: Jack is possessive. Of me! he want to sit on my lap and claim me as personal property; the best Roxy can manage is a spot at my feet or hip. Once they sorted out the movie-night pecking order, peace reigned.

And just like that, I had two dogs.