While all the other dogs at the shelter were pressed close to the wire fencing, ears at full attention, tails wagging fiercely as people walked by, one named Angel turned the other direction. Her head was hung low, ears drooping, as she faced the corner, trembling.

As Celeste and our friend, Patty, continued walking, looking into other pens, I stopped and tried to coax the little dog over. She wouldn't budge. Perhaps it was just my overactive imagination, but as that shaggy dog looked at me with those doleful eyes, I could feel her shame, embarrassment and fear.

It was Patty who was considering getting a dog. Celeste and I had simply accompanied her to the shelter with the understanding that we'd already met our quota of animals (three cats, two dogs). My dog-loving daughter and I steeled our spines and declared ourselves impervious to the charms of the sad-eyed furry creatures we knew we'd encounter.

When I approached the shelter's staff to inquire about the dog, they knew little about her beyond that she was about 3 years old and had been surrendered by her owner.

Even hours after we left, I couldn't get Angel out of my mind. Celeste and I returned to the shelter and asked if we could take her out for a walk. When the kennel attendant brought her to us, Angel's head was so low that her bottom lip was practically dragging the ground.

But the instant she stepped through the door, a new dog magically appeared at the end of the leash. A high-stepping, tail-wagging fool of a dog, grinning ear to floppy ear.

I bet some of you are getting ahead of yourselves, smugly thinking you know how this is going to turn out. Well, ha! You're wrong. We don't have a new dog.

My parents do.

Like with Patty, it had only been a little over a month since the last of my parents' dogs had died. My folks have always had dogs, often more than one. But after losing three dogs in just a little over a year, they wanted some time to recover and to perhaps do a bit of traveling without worrying about their pets.

Funny how there's no age limit to a kid asking their parents a question even though they already know what the answer will be.

"That's fine," I said. "I'll just foster the dog." There was no way I could leave Angel at the shelter. I'd become obsessed with finding her a home. There was something special about her that got to me in a way I've seldom experienced.

So we filled out the paperwork and paid the fees and took Angel home, where our two male dogs treated her like manna from heaven.

We quickly realized the differences between Angel and our two went far beyond their equipment. Namely, Angel is intelligent, dignified and has impeccable manners. She's quiet; she does not hog the bed; and she rides nicely in the car without honking the horn, rolling down the windows, or attacking the windshield wipers. She doesn't eat shoes or decapitate stuffed animals, and she stays so close to your side she doesn't require a leash.

In a nutshell, I guess what I'm saying is WE GAVE AWAY THE WRONG DOG!

At least we gave her to the right people.

I'm grateful beyond words that my parents changed their minds and decided to take her. I don't know how I could've handed her over to anyone else.

But what I also don't know is how someone could have surrendered such an angel of a dog - a perfectly behaved, sweet-faced pooch - to such an uncertain fate.

Attention animal lovers: We now have our own place to hang out online! Visit the new Gazette-Mail Pets Web page at gazettemailpets.com. Read the latest pet-related news, share advice and comments, and enter your pet's photo for a chance at winning our Pet Of The Week contest. The site is still a work in progress, so we welcome your suggestions.

To contact Karin Fuller, e-mail karinful...@cnpapers.com">karinful...@cnpapers.com or call 348-5191.