Most people would think that naming a slobbering canine after the love of your life wasn't the most ideal complement. But as soon as she heard the name of her other half's dog she knew it to be the profession of love they could not afford to put voices to. Each time Miranda told someone she loved Patricia, told her she them she was her only friend, only one to trust, or indeed when she told herself that she would never again let anyone besides Patricia in to her bed, if someone cared – or dared to look close enough they would see the telling glint in the editor's eye. It hadn't been difficult to hide the relationship that spanned nearly three decades, after all what would two straight women, one in fashion, one in law have in common? Who would suspect that the two had "married" on a little island of the coast of Greece before the notion of gay marriage had even been born? The real Patricia knew that it wasn't ideal, but they were happy, they were in love and sometimes when it felt like no privacy could be had, nowhere was there to hide, that there would always be a town house in New York for her to visit, or a star bucks in the city that had coffee with her name and a friend that came with it. She knew, too why it had been an animal of the canine variety that had been chosen. Dogs were friendly, loyal, and trustworthy and very often chose one master – one person to truly love. They would be fed by others, petted by others, maybe even answer others. But in the end when all was said and done, Patty would always go back to Miranda's open arms.