Back in February, I wrote about a puppy, Falcon, who died suddenly from an intestinal blockage. It tore me up, because even though she was not mine, I was there when that litter was born, and watched them grow. Every other puppy in the litter was sold, except for one, who was kept to see if she’d develop into a good dog to use to continue her line. It would’ve been Falcon who was kept, if she’d lived, but my personal favorite, Felon, turned out to be the one. It ended up being a silver lining to that dark cloud for me, because I’d loved Felon above the rest from the minute I set eyes on her, and I didn’t want to have to say goodbye. I always secretly wished she could be mine, but I knew that couldn’t happen (renting, I have a psycho cat, I’m a law student, etc. etc.)
So about a week ago my friend tells me that Felon isn’t going to be good for breeding. She takes her line very seriously, and Felon is going to turn out too short to meet the standard. My friend doesn’t think it’s right to keep the dog in the kennels if she isn’t going to be bred, when she could go to someone’s home and be their forever-dog. I think to myself, "She’s already my forever-dog. 
"
I had to try and figure out a way to make it work. If I believed in dog destiny, it’s like Felon was meant to be mine.
She can’t be bred because she’s too short… and I am 4’11".
Her name is Felon… and I’m a law student… almost certainly going to end up doing public sector work in criminal defense as a career.
I arrived at my friend’s house midway through the litter being born, and it had been a few hours since the last puppy. As soon as I walked into the room and patted the momma dog on the head, she dropped a puppy. Felon.
It’s fate. 
And my friend really didn’t want to sell her out from under me, either. So we’ve worked it out to where she will help house Felon for about the next year (3rd year of law school is a lot less hectic) and I’ll come over as often as possible to train her. My friend is going to teach me how to do it right, too, because let’s face it, German Shepherds can pack quite a wallop. And we have to train her not to bite the cat if he scratches her, so he has a chance to adjust to having a dog around without getting bitten in half first.
It’s going to be great.
This is the most recent picture (of us!), but she’s bigger now. Still not that big though.
