Then there were seven.

Scott was born in February, 1995. Which means, scarily, that I am now the mother of a teenage boy. A very mellow, easy-going teenage boy but still!

Kirby went to live with the in-laws in 96 and Luke was born in June, 1997. Add two, take away one, leaves you with six in our little family.

Then in May, 1998 the most pathetic looking dog you have ever seen appeared on the whippet email list I subscribe to - skin and bone, and holding up her right front leg with a huge gash down the front. She was in a shelter in Kansas City, and one of the ladies from there was doing her best to get her out. Because she had been found on the street, wearing a collar, they wouldn't let Libby adopt her for a week. They did - finally - allow her some softer bedding, but her leg wasn't looked after at all. And they insisted on her being spayed before Libby could take her home. At the time, she weighed 16lbs. It goes without saying that she wasn't up to spaying, but they did it anyway. The gash down her leg had started to heal on its own, so Libby spent five weeks soaking and debriding it three times a day. The joint got infected, and her vet went through a variety of antibiotics before they finally found one that would take care of the infection. Because of all the bits and pieces he pulled out of the joint during that time, her leg buckles forward a little. It has never affected her speed or mobility, but it looks strange to see her standing like that.

Libby named her Angel, but whenever I called to check on her, Darren would ask 'How is Agnes doing' and Agnes she became. It suits her perfectly, to be honest. We picked her up from Libby at a dog show in Sedalia, MO on the 4th of July. She's been with us for ten years now.