Not-quite-puppy love

The dog is medium sized, a year old, with a German Shepherd's
coloring but more a generic dog shape. She went into a veritable
frenzy of welcome when I walked in the door, though I think that
was more because she's been attention-starved in the few days she
was in the shelter than because she loved me at first sight. Until
a few minutes ago, she was asleep on the floor in front of the
couch, against Chad's foot; he just got up to take his contacts out
and she followed, despite my offering to pet her, and laid in front
of the bathroom door. I think we know who she likes better. =>

She perpetually looks a little worried, because her forehead
furrows vertically and she has lighter fur over the inner quadrants
of her eyes. She has a few dry scaly patches that the vet will have
to look at, and a deformed-from-birth back paw (looks more like a
hoof) that doesn't slow her down in any noticeable fashion. She's
remarkably well-behaved: very quiet (hasn't barked once yet); shows
no interest in chewing anything she shouldn't—and barely
anything she should, as toys have not held her interest at all so
far; hopped right out of the front seat into the back when Chad
started up the car; and just laid down when we sat down for
dinner.

We still haven't a clue what to name her, but something will
come up. Right now we're just telling her frequently what a good
dog she is, and she seems happy with that—as are we.

[ ETA: her name is Emmy, and she's still a
very good dog. ]