She is careful around my small apartment, as if afraid she doesn't really belong here. Her steps are always light. Winnie came from the Seattle Animal Shelter, where I volunteer to walk dogs. There is an area fenced off by the river where the dogs can run free, chasing balls and sticks. Often I find I'm the person who takes a dog for its last walk.
Every dog has four weeks and a day to be adopted, but after that, it is put to sleep.
I try to be both close and distant. And then, at the last moment, I always break, and I drop down with them, trying to hold their heads tightly enough to make up for all the days they will miss. They slobber and seem to grin, their tails wagging. They never know they're in trouble until somebody leads them away. I had been walking Winnie for weeks, and her last day came.