We were still getting to know Darla. We had won her in a contest — sort of. Early in the pandemic, when we were all working from home, my mom called me one morning to insist that I turn on the TV: It was pet-adoption week on “Live With Kelly and Ryan,” and the hosts were hoisting up a confused-looking little black fluffball. My mom told us that Mark and I should adopt her. “Mom,” I said, “isn’t this a national TV show? I’m sure they get like a million applications.” But I filled one out anyway — pretty well, apparently. A few days later, Darla was ours.