I am a dog owner for the first time in my life. My girls and I drove to Connecticut to meet the van that held our new family member, all the way from Indiana.

We were at the end of the pick up line, and so we watched dog after dog come out of the van to meet his new owners.

Finally, Star came out to meet us. I wasn’t sure what to expect having seen only a couple of photos of her, but my first thought was, “Oh, she is so cute and so much smaller than I thought!” And then I thought, “ZOMG, she is STRONG! And can PULL!” as she dragged me across the parking lot.

The hour-and-a-half ride home was long, but, all things considered, awesome. No barking, no whining, no eating my minivan’s back seat despite all the food that is ground into it.

And now that she’s home, she seems so eager to please and to be a part of our family. On Twitter tonight, I joked “This dog already looks at me with way more devotion than any of my kids. She’s going to do wonders for my ego.”

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought of Jesse today, the dog I met years ago when I volunteered in an animal shelter. There is something in the goofiness of Star’s mannerisms, in the way she tries to jump up to kiss you—not a great behavior, mind you—and in her wish to be with a person all the time, that reminds me of the little shelter dog I loved so many years ago but couldn’t adopt.