
Mom and Dad adopted me on November 25, 2011, the Friday after Thanksgiving that year. They'd come to the Franklin County Animal Shelter, north of Columbus, Ohio, to meet Cranberry, a 2-year-old Chihuahua mix whose photo was posted on the shelter's website. When the man in front of them in line adopted Cranberry, they asked for me.
I was 10-weeks old, still had stitches from neutering surgery—and didn't have a photo posted on the website. Also, I was alone for the first time in my life; someone had adopted my two sisters the prior Wednesday. No. Wait. I wasn't alone. I had the company of a drying 💩. How embarrassing.
Soon the shelter lady showed up and brought me to meet them. I met Mom first. Her hands were soft and smooth, and I wasn't much bigger than her palm. I kissed her many times. She said warm soothing words I'd never heard before (Mom's from Korea). Then I did the same with Dad. He tells me from that moment he knew I'd be their boy forever.
Many people ask how I got my name. Until that day, my name had been Julio. While completing the adoption papers, Dad says the clerk asked him to give me a name. He recalled the color of my fur, thought a moment and said, "Tango." Mom loved it and that's how I got my new name.
Later, Mom and Dad returned from shopping and carried me to our Odyssey minivan (Dad worked for Honda then). Then we went to our house in Dublin, a northwest suburb of Columbus.
I don't remember much about the drive home. In the second-row seat was my new 'house', a medium-size black metal cage. I rode in Mom's arms and lap. She'd bought me new clothes, a red Christmas tee shirt and, worried about the cold weather, put it on me. I'm wearing that shirt in the photo you see on this page. I'm sitting on the huge couch in our family room. Maybe you can tell by the look in my eyes that I was a bit nervous?
Soon after we arrived I explored my new home. It was on a corner lot and big, with two floors, a finished basement, lots of windows, carpeting, and three staircases. Sometime that afternoon, Mom and Dad marveled at my ability to go down the stairs leading to and from the second-floor loft. It's funny. I'm not sure where I learned how, and I have absolutely no explanation for why I jumped from the third step from the bottom… but I did. Mom and Dad were so surprised. Dad says now it was a leap of faith—faith in my new Mom and dad and the promise of good things to come. I'll write to you again about them another time, but for now...
Thanks for visiting my site.
Tango
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