The neighborhood street dog Chueco has adopted us. His name means bow-legged but he walks with a limp and follows us when we leave the house on foot. Sometimes he slips through our gate and sleeps along the cool stone under the front windows. Today a tiny version of himself trailed into the yard. I was absolutely beside myself with speculation– Chueco has a kid! I sat down on the ground and tried to get the cautious puppy to drop his apparent fear of people. After a few minutes, still eyeing me warily, he began to lick my hand. We named him Simba. I moaned about the you-may-not-adopt-any-strays clause in the housing document I signed a month ago.