I’ll never forget seeing her scared little face in the window of my door.

She was a wreck—skinny, covered in feces and pee, her nails in awful condition from being stuck in a crate most of her life. Her nose was rubbed raw from the bars. She was only a year old and it was clear she’d already had puppies—a breed and dump. We sat there together for a long time, just realizing neither of us was going to hurt the other, until the ACO came to scoop her up. Before they took her, I told her she would be okay. I saw the white star patch on the back of her head and told her it was her lucky star to guide her.

I do tarot professionally and daily. The day we met, I pulled The Star. The day she was cleared for adoption and I went to get her, I pulled The Star again. It was written.

Now, the “velvet hippo” is finally learning how to be a puppy. She spends her time with treat-dispensing toys and her favorite white bear stuffie. She folded into the house perfectly, immediately realizing the cats weren’t squeaky toys, but minor royalty to be respected—or she’d face the “pap-pap” paws.

She’s a snorting, happy bed-hog who loves snuggling her mom and dad on the couch. We even have matching cow-print pjs. She spent her first year in the dark, but she found her way home.

Belle now Star