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ot long after Amy absent-mindedly wondered about whether Shadow needed a friend, Karen found another dog, a street dog from Pico and Alvarado Karen was calling "Red Dog," which she was trying to place in a good home.
   In late January during a rainstorm, the engine on Amy's Toyota blew just beyond Getty Center Drive on the 405. It took a couple of weeks to find the right mechanic, but after the job was done we didn't have enough money.
   We stopped by Karen's apartment on the way home one night to borrow the money, and Galen introduced himself with chin and paws on Amy's lap. Again she was in love.
   ``You don't have any reservations about him, do you?'' Amy asked as we talked about the dog on the way home.
   ``None,'' I said.
   Only to myself did I admit that so far almost every dog she has fallen in love with so quickly has died. ``Nah,'' I thought. ``It couldn't possibly happen again.''

       For one thing, Galen was an adult, probably about two years old. He was a strong dog who had probably survived on the streets for a while. Most importantly, Dr. B. had checked him over and gave him a clean bill of health.
   Karen brought him over to visit Shadow that Saturday. They got along well enough and he liked being with us. So, she just let him stay.
   ``How do you keep doing this too me?'' Amy said.
   ``What did I do?''
       ``Look, now we have two cats and two dogs. How did that happen?''
       Amy had always suspected that if I had my chance I would fill any house we moved to with animals. Both of my sisters have done so. She had sworn that she would not let it happen. But no, I pointed out. I didn't do anything. Each animal was either a joint decision or one that she had fallen in love with hopelessly.
   Shadow was still a puppy and was already even in height with Galen. We thought that as she grew that might happen to balance Galen's natural aggressiveness. They played together, a constant game of wrestling with their mouths and teeth. Galen quickly taught Shadow to how to chase cats.
   Then, one night, I heard Galen coughing.
   It was familiar.
   Too familiar.
   In the next couple of days, we watched him carefully. His eyelids became heavy. The nose had a discharge. We had him tested.

       ``If anything happens to Shadow,'' Amy said. ``I'll never forgive myself.''
       The results showed a low-grade infection. Distemper had found us again. Amy called me.
   I had her ask if we should take him to this doctor in Lancaster, this Dr. Sears we had heard of.
   ``She said that wouldn't be a bad idea.''
       The next day, Karen drove Galen to Lancaster. He threw up on the backseat.