Rough draft chapter one opener - "Windows in a Vacant Building" - a children's storybook for adults too.
"That one," Jennelle Jones said as she, her twin brother Jesse and father James walked past kennels in the Riverview County Humane Society shelter.
"He's too small," Jesse said. "And look at those little legs and fluffy white hair. Not for me!"
"It's not a he, it's a she," Jennelle replied. "And what's size got to do with it? This dog is special. Besides, look at the name tag on the cage's door. It says 'Jillie,' with a J. She fits right in."
Jillie moved closer to the three on the kennel's gray concrete floor, looked up and wagged a tail that looked like a plume.
"J for 'Jerk' would be a better name for this dog," Jesse said.
Jillie barked in a way that almost sounded like "Hey!" Their father laughed.
Jennelle felt an impression in her head that mystified her, like an intuition. She looked at Jillie and the dog winked an eye and conveyed what seemed to be a smile. "I'm the one, you're right," Jillie seemed to say.
The twins' father wondered why the small dog occupied a large kennel with much bigger dogs as neighbors. He walked over to an older, taller man in jeans mopping the floor of any empty cage. He could smell the disinfectant.
"Why is this dog in such a big kennel?", he asked.
"Oh, that's Jillie," the man answered. "She hated the small kennels and let us know about it."
"What do you know about her?"
"She's odd, that's for sure. People take to her but she shies from them. This is the first time I've seen her be so open toward any visitor," the man said as he removed his ballcap and brushed his gray hair. "How old are your kids?"
"Both twelve, they're twins."
"I'd bet she'd be great with them. Look how she is."
James turned and saw Jillie on her hind legs, panting and touching the kennel door below the latch that opens it.
Jesse laughed. "She's trying to open the gate," he said.
"Dad," Jennelle yelled. "This is the one. Can't we bring her home!"