I went to the MSPCA-Angell adoption center to drop off two old comforters. Although I had been looking for a large dog to adopt, I had decided to take a break from my search; still, it is against the laws of nature to go to a dog shelter and not check out the available dogs. The sight of Eddie stopped me in my tracks; I stared and blinked and stared again: he appeared to be Max, my first dog, who had died tragically thirty years ago. I came back to visit him two more times, and on our walks he seemed forlorn, exhausted, spent, and yet so sweet, maybe hopeful—rolling on his back for a tummy rub. Upon returning him reluctantly to his pen, I gently pushed his rump inside to close the gate—and he pushed back, unmistakably. We have been communicating ever since through a nudge, a look, a stretch, a wag. On Eddie’s intake papers, was noted “lost”. We found each other. His papers concluded: “A peach of a dog.” Yes, maybe even a peach dropped from heaven.