Hey Stella!

Stella just seemed like the right name for the little chihuahua who showed up at my house and claimed my family on Satuday. Now, was my brother thinking of Marlon Brando or a Street Car Named Desire when he picked the name? Not likely - but I choose to believe somewhere in the depths of his over-developed mind he was referencing that little snippit of 1951 pop culture.

I woke up on Saturday morning and half-fell out of my bed as I stumbled towards the kitchen to get a drink of water. But halfway through my underwear and t-shirt clad pilgrimage I noticed my dog staring out the window, mesmerized by something on the sidewalk below. When I followed her gaze on down, I saw that we had a little intruder on our lot. A teeny tiny black rat dog, panting and limping up my sidewalk.

Naturally, I rushed to the kitchen, got a bowl of water and headed downstairs to try and water the broken wanderer.  But as soon as I opened the door, she ran away as fast as her limping physique could carry her. And then she posted up at the end of the sidewalk and barked at me.

We danced this tango of "let me feed you and water you" "no, screw you, I hate you human" for most of the morning. I gave up and left the water and food outside sometime before 2. But when we got back from the pool, my little brother, Mom and friends found her still wandering the grounds of my estate.

After many more failed attempts to call her close, we left for a movie. When we returned - there she was - scratching at my door to get in. This time, she let my Mom get within a few feet, and refused to leave the porch. I scooted my way by and opened the door - and in she went. Stella had chosen this house, and chosen these people.

But it was when she met my baby brother that she really fell in love. She didn't want any of us to touch her or feed her, but when Lukey came down the stairs she lept from her towel-bed and jumped into his arms. She had found her human. He fed her from his hand, cuddled her and on Sunday bought her a collar.

Whenever he leaves the room, she looks for him or follows him. See below for video of the old, emphysema riddled New Yorker who adopted us - the great, the legendary - Stella.