The Foreign Service Journal, September 2007

peace rather than stark loneliness. The dog’s deep breathing testified to another force in the room. Alice felt this presence and the connec- tion with another being. The next day, she dealt with the tasks of accommodating another being in her life. She found the name of a married couple who were vets who came out to her apart- ment, clucking their tongues at the emaciated condition of the dog and, Alice suspected, the wisdom of this crazy American taking a mongrel into her home. But there were evi- dently no serious diseases lurking in the dog, and the vets only recom- mended some minor medications, vit- amins, good food and tender care. Those, Alice thought, she could give. During the examination, the dog kept turning its head to look at her, as if seeking confirmation that all was well — for comfort, Alice thought. And, it was confirmed that the “it” was in fact a “she.” “What is she? What breed of dog?” Alice asked. More clucking and hurried mut- terings in Russian. Shrugging, they sized up the dog. “We don’t know,” the woman said. “Obviously she is a mix of many things, but mostly wolfhound, we think.” The dog turned her soft eyes on Alice as if to apologize for her questionable her- itage. And Alice smiled back. “What will you call her?” the vet asked. Alice wasn’t sure. She knew that to name the dog would be a turning point in their new relation- ship. It would mean that they now belonged to one another. There would be no going back, no opening the door and shooing the dog away. But Alice realized that that point had already passed when she grabbed the dog’s scruff on a crowded, rainy Moscow street to pull her into the taxi. “Lucky,” Alice replied, putting her hand protectively on the dog’s back. “Her name is Lucky.” 52 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / S E P T E M B E R 2 0 0 7 The dog quickly lapped at the water but, surprisingly, tackled the tuna fish more daintily, as if savoring this delicacy.