That's the kind of treatment Madison will have to grow accustomed to, Spears says. She is going to get the best of everything for Madison, the best doggie bed, the best carrying bag.
"She'll be the queen of the house," Spears says.
And probably the princess of some other places, too: Spears oversees catering at WCI's Colony in Bonita Springs. Several of her co-workers are dog lovers, and Spears brought in a photo of Madison to show them. They were properly impressed, Spears recalls, and have all begun to root for her to become Madison's new mom.
Spears' parents, her neighbors, her son in Tampa, even someone she met who works at the Humane Society, Spears says — they're all keeping their fingers crossed.
"She's good," Spears says, petting the dozing Yorkie, savoring the quiet time together. "She's a good puppy."
Someone to love
Jenny Del Rio was ready for Madison.
She read a book about Yorkies. She ordered food and water dishes from a catalog. She also ordered a swinging pet hammock and a special brush for the little Yorkie's long, smooth fur, and bought a soft-sided carrying case, too.
"My plan is to take it with me everywhere," Del Rio says.
That's if she gets Madison, she says. She doesn't know yet, but she wants to be ready, just in case. She wants Madison to have everything she needs from the moment she comes home, if that happens. If.
And Del Rio is hopeful, so hopeful. Her two children are grown now. Her son lives in Naples, but he is married and has a career at a bank. He's busy. Her daughter is away at the University of Florida on a full scholarship. She doesn't have much time to get home to her family.
"They grew up, they flew away from me," she says. "Now I'm alone with my husband. We need company."
Del Rio would like something to take care of again. She has some chickens in the yard and a fish in a bowl that she keeps at her office and carries home with her when she goes on vacation because she worries about it being left alone, but Del Rio wants a little dog like Madison. She wants something soft to snuggle between her and husband, Ismael, on the couch at night while they watch television.
Madison is soft, she says, petting the little dog. "Like a little piece of cotton," she says.
"I love the ears," she says.
Madison would be good for her husband, too. He's on permanent disability and can't work. Most days, he will care for the chickens, watch a little television. Madison could keep him company while she's gone at work, Del Rio says.
And while she was away at work, she could take a picture of Madison with her, too. All the people at her office do that, she says. They put the photos up on a special board. She doesn't have anything on that board now, she says, but maybe she will be able to put something there soon. If she gets Madison. If.
She doesn't mind the process of having the little puppy come to stay with her family for a night. She believes it's a good idea for Madison's sake. There are plenty of people who treat dogs like dogs, she says, not like it's good company, not like it's something alive. This little dog needs to go to good people, she says.
"In the other way, it's a little sad for the family," she says.
Dogs, families and videotape
This is it.
The panel will sift through all the videotape, all the footage collected over several days and nights by several families, and make up their minds about Madison's new home. They're especially looking for a bond between Madison and someone.
"That's the hardest thing to look for," Randall says.
"Because it's an emotional thing," Rudolph continues.
But they'll look for it. They'll also be watching for the three things Simonik asked each family to try with Madison: Put her through her sit-stay-come commands, groom her and attempt to teach her a new trick.
The DeMartinos are first. They especially like that while Sunny DeMartino obviously has the financial means to buy a dog, she prefers to adopt a dog from a shelter.
"She's got the heart," Rudolph says.
Sunny DeMartino is clearly a pro with a Yorkie, and Madison sleeping on top of John's head as he naps on the family's couch on Saturday afternoon serves as proof to the panel of the sought-after bond. Sunny gets in the pool with Madison, hopefully to show her how to swim, should she ever fall in and need to save herself — but all the judges agree that it's unlikely Madison would ever be far from Sunny's saving hands.
But they also notice Madison seeming to bond with Sheryl Spears' fiancé, Ray Malone. This family seemed to follow his instructions best, Simonik says — the guidelines to train, groom and put Madison through her paces.
When they watch the Del Rio video, Randall announces she has no doubt that this family deserves a dog.
The family plays endlessly with Madison, taking her out in their vast Golden Gate Estates yard to run on her leash. Shortly before 7 p.m., a time when Simonik says Madison is usually wild with puppy energy, the little dog is dozing on the Del Rio couch.
The Del Rios bathe Madison and brush her and blow her dry, give her new toys, teach her to stand on her back legs to earn a treat, put her to sleep in their daughter's bed and keep checking in on her past midnight.
Only one family can get the dog, though, and the sentiment is turning toward Sunny.
Rudolph likes seeing little dogs in pairs, she says. Randall likes the courtyard that Sunny has attached to her home, an addition that means the dogs won't have to go out in the yard and face neighborhood nuisances, such as other animals. Simonik adds that Sunny's name was on the waiting list the longest.
It's done. Madison's new mommy is Sunny.
Too bad this can't be done for every dog or cat, Simonik says. Putting an animal in the right home the first time means it's less likely they'll eventually be returned, he explains. But in the hard and fast business of animal placement, practicality trumps something as fun and fanciful as this.
"If we did that for every animal, we could adopt out far fewer," Janice says.
Like in that famous book by Nabakov
Madison, Simonik and Rudolph go in one car. Randall goes in another.
They've laid a trap for Sunny, told her they have a few more questions to ask her about the possible adoption. And they'll need to ask her in person. At home. Sunny, reached on her mobile phone, is having lunch with a friend downtown. Reggie is with her. But of course, she'll go home immediately to meet them.
When the panelists ring the DeMartino doorbell, Reggie barks. Sunny opens the door and her eyes fill with tears. She reaches out for her new little dog.
"Oh, I knew you liked it here," she says to Madison.
Simonik, Janice and Randall congratulate her. Sunny holds Madison, who squirms to be reunited with Reggie on the ground, and thanks them and thanks them. She tells them they won't be sorry, and swears she didn't know it would be her. Everyone told her it would be her, she says — her husband, her friends — but she didn't know.
Lots and lots of people wanted this little dog, she told her husband. John responded by reminding her that she's a fanatic, she says.
And now here is Madison. Or, as Sunny has decided: Lola.
She has noticed that Madison is a little tart, she says, always flirting with Reggie. And the name of that most famous, most dangerous flirt, Lolita, might be too long of a name to give a dog, so she's shortening it to Lola.
Sunny bends down to scoop up Reggie, and holds both dogs in her arms. She quickly crunches a different sort of number in her mind: Doggie years and odds of the Reggie and Lola making a love connection.
"I don't know," Sunny says to Reggie. "You're a 70-year-old bachelor, and now you're going to be a married man."
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