The tiny puppy showed up at the horse barn on a chilly September morning. She had been dumped in the country the previous evening. Something about her appealed to her. I called my husband and told him I had fallen in love. After assuring him that the object of my affection was a puppy, and not another man, I told him I was bringing the puppy home.
Noone understood my affection for this dog. She was truly ugly, with one ear that cocked and one that stood up straight. She was a mix of colors, had a wispy beard, a raggedy tail, and a funny-looking white rear end. So, I named her Ugly Buns, but we called her U.B., to spare her feelings.
U.B. was with us for about 15 years. She repaid my impulsive rescue with love and loyalty. Her ashes rest under a rock in our patio garden. I say, “Hey, U.B.” when I walk by.
