Myriam Yagnam - Yin Yin

Meanwhile, Sofía and Rodrigo, worried sick, stapled pictures of Yin to trees near their house, put ads in the newspaper, and on the internet, and on the radio, seeking information on a little lost dog—but no one called them. Nobody seemed to have seen Yin—she had disappeared into thin air! Among the bushes, Yin had fallen sound asleep. She was awakened by the sound of dogs barking. The dogs were Lucas, Hound-Dog, Negri, Angie, and Klibus, a pack of dogs that roamed the streets looking for food.

“Hi!” said Negri when he saw Yin. He was a medium-sized dog, a smooth talker, and so very, very mixed that there was no way to tell what breed his parents or grandparents or great-grandparents had started out as. “You’re looking mighty fine, good-lookin’,” he winked.

“You’ll have to excuse Negri, miss; he thinks he’s catnip for the ladies,” interrupted Klibus, a wise, gentlemanly old Dalmatian who was the leader of the pack. “You don’t look like you’ve been abandoned. I bet you have a home somewhere.”

“And what’s the lady’s name, if I might ask?” asked Hound-Dog, bowing courteously.

“Yin,” Yin answered shyly.

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