"She prefers to sleep on the floor."

I stare into the curious eyes of the husky at the humane society. I know right then and there that I was taking her home. She's still such a sweetheart, even after being neglected for months, possibly years.

"I'll take her. She's perfect." I tell the worker without looking.

"Alright!" She says before turning to call for someone outside the door. "Jesse! Get the paperwork for the 7 year-old husky. It won't have a name on it. We never gave her a name." Her last sentence was directed to me.

"That's fine. I'll come up with a good name for her."

We leave the room that my new friend has spent weeks in to fill out the paperwork for me to take her home. I pay the adoption and licensing fee when it hits me. The perfect name for this beautiful husky.

Elly.

I finish the paper work and leave with Elly and a trunk full of supplies for my new companion.

When we get back to my apartment, Elly explored every inch. I cleared having a large dog with my landlord, who said it was fine as long as the dog was on the older side, since older dogs are usually calmer. When she finishes sniffing my wardrobe, she curls up at the end of my bed and falls asleep. Pleased with how comfortable she seems already, I go to the kitchen to make my dinner. As soon as I leave the room, Elly gets up and follows. I put food in her brand new bowl and decide to make some chicken for my dinner. When I grab out the knife, I hear whimpering. I turn and see Elly backed into the corner near the fridge.

"Oh, Elly. It's okay sweetie." I set the knife down and slowly move towards her to comfort her. As soon as the knife was out of my hand she moves closer to be pet. Maybe she wasn't just neglected.

I lead her back to my room and close the door until I finish cutting the chicken. I let her out and give her one of the dog treats I picked up. After I eat my dinner, I'm ready to go to bed. I change into pajamas and get into bed. I fall asleep with Elly curled up in a ball next to my bed.

When I wake up in the morning, she's on my bed. Maybe she doesn't like the floor as much as the shelter worker thought.