I round the corner into Friday Harbor and see my house up ahead. I stop to clean up, warm up, see Kristen, and say hello to our dog, an old rescue named T.

After crossing paths with so many stray dogs during our trip across the Deep South, we joked that whenever we were ready to adopt a dog of our own, we’d just take a bike trip across Louisiana and bring an empty trailer with us.

But two years ago, a little fifteen-pound dachshund-terrier mix showed up at the shelter here on the island. He had just been flown up from Lake Charles, a few days before Hurricane Ida made landfall in the Gulf Coast.

Heart

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As it turned out, Louisiana came to us.