Cosette, Mozey-Mozey, Cosette.

Immediately after moving into a run-down one-bedroom upstairs apartment in San Bernardino, California, my girlfriend took the opportunity to pick a fight with her dad, which facilitated getting herself kicked out, and she needed to move in with me. I didn't mind terribly- but I saw what she did.

A couple weeks later, a little orphan puppy wiggled into my life. She had a brother with her, bigger and taller. We scooped them up, promptly fell in love with them, and took them in. I had to explain to the apartment manager that my new roomy was without options, and that I'd only keep the pups till they had a good home. We named him Valjean, and her, Cosette, after characters from Les Miserables.

The pups grew so fast. And they loved to run. They loved to run in circles. They loved to run, in circles, in my upstairs one-bedroom apartment. In retrospect, at just 18, I was still a bit of a pup myself. I had certainly not considered all of the expenses of financially supporting myself, much less an additional person, and two rapidly growing puppies that were never going to not be mine. The manager saw through my excuses and late rent, and she firmly suggested that I either lose the pups or move on. There really was no choice.

We hopped around, living in a few ramshackle places. Along the way, the pups decided that their favorite activity was escaping backyards by climbing, jumping, and digging out of every fence and barricade that I could devise. They were regular triathletes. I worked on the set crew at the civic light opera, which meant lots of late nights, and lots of all-nighters. my girl had school, and worked stage crew there, too.

One sad night, Valjean decided to celebrate the pups' recent defeat of our hopeful enclosure by trying his paw at chasing cars. I don't know if Cosette wasn't up for it, but she was on the front porch when I returned home. Valjean was on the side of the street, and the remainder of his story is short, and easy to guess.

Not long after that, we saw the end of our romance, she returned to her folks' house, and I decided to take my little orphan girl on a travelling adventure, working on the renaissance festival circuit.

Cosette was very happy on the road, most days. She ate whatever I could feed her, and she was fearless, when it came to strangers, or aggressive dogs we occasionally encountered in various campgrounds around the country. That said, she could be a little territorial- mostly about me.

Being a single, reasonably attractive, fit young man, who recently joined a very small community of rovers meant I got a fair amount of attention, which meant I'd be out all night, from time to time. I took great care to see to her safety, including shelter, and ensuring that friendly camp neighbors didn't let her believe she was abandoned. I was hers, though, and she was mine, and any others would be vetted with whatever prejudice a loving pup could muster. It was one thing for me to come home with the scent of a woman on me, but if there was a dog in her bed, she would look at me with the sort of judgment I'd expect from Saint Pete himself. And if the no-good mongrel I'd come home reeking of should happen to be out walking her mistress, they'd be wise to walk on the other side of the street!

Cosette made allowances for a few special people. She'd tolerated a woman with a cat, and once a single mom I'd charmed adopted a shelter dog, and Ranger was okay, since Cosette got to be in on the selection process. Once, when offered an ultimatum of, "Make the dog ride in the back of the truck, or I ride in the back.", Cosette got to enjoy the whole bench seat of my F150, as we drove many miles through Yellowstone National Park!

Over the years, I got better at training and understanding my little orphan pup's needs. Sometimes that meant putting her up at a kennel, if a festival wasn't appropriate for her care. Sometimes the kennel rent, and cost of commuting to spend time with her cost more than I paid to camp as a 2-legger!

While working the Arizona Renaissance Festival, Cosette was being boarded at such a kennel. My friend Cayenne introduced me to her sister, Mozey, and our chemistry was extraordinary. The magnetism was so powerful between us that my mom got a call before the romance even officially began. This was big. Of course, Mozey would need to meet my mom, but first, she needed to meet Cosette.

I'd been spending a lot of time with Mozey, and I decided to introduce them. Not gonna lie, I was nervous. I had no intention of spending a night away from my Mozey, but Cosette was as much my family as anyone, and while open-hearted, Mozey was a "cat person". Mozey and I discussed her previous experiences with dogs, and I was already glad my dog was not a Jack Russell Terrier.

"Too hyper and neurotic". Other than that, I just really hoped they liked each other. I could tell we were supposed to be together, and I crossed my fingers that Cosette would know, too.

As Mozey and I rolled up to the kennel, I tried to focus on how much love I felt, for this woman, and for my best friend. I let the anxiety dissolve, and committed my heart to have faith in its understanding that both belong in my life. Mozey waited outside while I went in. I wanted Cosette to smell her in advance of the meeting. I felt confident letting scent start the introduction.

Cosette and I had a ritual for our hang time. As soon as we got to the open desert beyond the fence line of the kennel, I threw the ball. She sure loves to chase that ball. As I headed toward my truck, my longest love caught sight of my new love, and strafed toward her as she retrieved the ball.

"She's beautiful." Mozey said, as Cosette put her panting, ball-holding snout up to her hands, sniffed for some recognition, and dropped the ball.

"If you're here to stay, you might as well throw the ball." I could hear Cosette's thoughts, by her body language.

Everything was going to be great. Mozey and Cosette were happy to coexist with me. They made mutual accommodations for each other like I'd never experienced. Mozey is short, and Cosette loves to sleep under the covers, at the foot. Warm feet and a happy dog have made for good bedmates. As the years passed, and Mozey and I started having kids, we've grown into a big family with a fat, old, happy little orphan girl, chasing balls, and warming the beds.