Undersized child had morphed to petite young woman. I searched for memory jags, came up with a few: the same triangular face, square chin, pale green eyes. The tremulous lips.

I wondered if I’d have picked her out on the street.

I said, “You’ve changed a bit,” and motioned her in.

“I sure hope so,” she said. “Last time I was a baby.”

Anthropologists say blond is attractive because so few towheads stay that way, it represents youth. Tanya’s yellow curls had relaxed to honey waves. She wore it long, gathered in a high knot held in place by black chopsticks.

No resemblance to Patty at all.

Why should there be?

We headed up the hallway. As we neared the office, Blanche stepped out. Shook herself, yawned, padded forward. I scooped her up.

“Now, this is different,” said Tanya. “The only livestock you had last time were those gorgeous fish.”

“They’re still here.”

She reached out to pet the dog, changed her mind.

“Her name is Blanche. She’s well beyond friendly and into gregarious.”

Tanya extended a cautious finger. “Hi, cutie.” A puppy shiver jelloed Blanche’s rotund little body. A moist black nose sniffed in Tanya’s direction. Meaty lips curled upward.

“Am I anthropomorphizing, Dr. Delaware, or is she smiling?”

“You’re not, she is.”

“So cute.”

“I’ll put her back in her crate and we can get started.”

“A crate? Is that necessary?”

“It makes her feel more secure.”

She looked doubtful.

I said, “Think of a baby in a crib as opposed to rolling around in open space.”

“I guess,” she said, “but don’t banish her on my account. I love dogs.” She rubbed the top of Blanche’s head.

“Want to hold her?”

“I…if she’s okay with it.”

Blanche went along with the transfer with nary a twitch. Someone should study her brain chemistry and package it.

“She’s so warm-hey, cutie. Is she a pug?”