After only two days Lucy has blended so seamlessly into our family that it almost seems as though she were always here.

As I wrote before, I was immediately drawn to her when I saw her tied to a light pole last week. I felt instantly that I was meant to have her. Because I want almost every dog I see, I tried to brush away those feelings and go on with my shopping, but there was a niggling voice inside me saying This one is different. That’s when I knew that it was out of my hands and that God (or whatever name you prefer) wanted me to have that dog.

I’m not usually one to approach strangers and I don’t especially like speaking Swedish in public unless it’s strictly necessary, so it’s remarkable that I just walked up to a woman I’d never met before and asked her if I could have her dog. Not only that, but I stood and talked with her in Swedish for at least ten minutes, never once tripping over my tongue or struggling to come up with the right words. And all that without a single butterfly in my stomach.

When I got back in the car after giving her my phone number, I apologized to Olof–I knew he didn’t want another dog–and said that I didn’t have any choice. This was something I had to do. Good man that he is, he accepted that (although I’m pretty sure he thought I’d taken leave of my senses). Truth be told, I wasn’t crazy myself about the idea of a second dog, but I had been compelled. Later that afternoon I said a little prayer: I don’t really want this dog, but I’ll take her if you need me to. I know that prayer was heard.

For that reason, I didn’t hesitate a moment when I got the phone call on Thursday and I didn’t bat an eye when the woman told me she was asking a thousand crowns ($150US, give or take), even though that was the larger part of my grocery budget for the next three weeks. I just said okay and came home with my dog. And it was the right thing to do.