The puppy shyly made his way across the living from floor to Kay’s feet.

At six-weeks old, he was cute, but he was a “he”. We wanted a “she”.

We had called ahead to ask whether any females were left from the half Bichon Frise – half Shih Tzu litter.

By the time we arrived, the females had been taken. Since we were there and the puppies were out, we stayed to watch them play and to get a better sense for the breed.

Disappointed that there was no female, but unable to forget the pup that came to Kay, we got back in the car and headed for home.

Two blocks from the kennel, Kay broke the silence. “I can’t leave him. I love that puppy. We have to go back and get him.” We went back and got him. Kay held him in a blanket on the way home.

We named him Sebastian. He just seemed like a Sebastian.

Thirteen years later, April 20, 2013, Kay held him once more in a blanket … on the way to the veterinarian.

I keep waiting for him to follow me up or down the stairs, settle by my feet at the computer desk, nuzzle up to my thigh during our nap, pester us to go upstairs when it’s bedtime. The house is not as full.

We got a “he” for a little while. A gift named Sebastian. We never “owned” him. We don’t really own a thing.