The dog-toy rope held out to me by the Doberman Roxi made it obvious I was welcomed in her home. That I didn’t seem to understand the game of tug – or was not very good at it – did not make her wagging nub of a tail any less enthusiastic. She may have recognized that her guests were also dog-parents – Dexter’s and Comet’s hair may have been clinging to my jeans, or that most people entering her world were , as they say in Spanish, simpatico. When you are welcomed into a dog-home, you feel the love. And then, when you return home your own dogs sniff all other doggie smells and wonder why they were not invited.