The puppy arrived in a cardboard box on a Thursday afternoon in April.
Years later, Henry Cole would still remember that box.
The worn towels inside it.
The oversized paws.
The ears that seemed far too big for such a small head.
And the way the little black-and-tan German Shepherd looked up at him and Lorraine with solemn brown eyes, as if he were studying them before deciding whether they were worthy.
“Oh, Henry,” Lorraine whispered, lifting him from the box. “Look at him. He looks like a tiny bear.”
