Finding the right dog

I went to Wayside Waifs with a list of female, mid-size dogs I was interested in.  Of course the first one I asked about was ten-month-old Tiki, the one I'd seen in a video.  When we walked near her cage, she picked up a ball off the floor and brought it over, as if asking us to play with her.  "I think that's the one," I told Cliff.  
She wasn't the one, though.  In the get-acquainted room, she jumped on us constantly, looking for treats the volunteer was providing.  In fact, she only seemed to have eyes for the volunteer unless we were holding a treat; she knew where her treats came from.  
We took her outside on a leash, and she was quite a handful; I could barely hold her back!  This dog was too much for me.  I found out one family had kept her for a month and brought her back.  Poor thing, I'm not sure she'll make a good fit for anybody.  
Second on my list was Roxie, a two-year-old who hadn't been there long.  She was in another section with new arrivals, but we found she was also too rambunctious for my tastes, almost as bad as Tiki.  
We were going to go back to the main viewing room and view all those dogs again, but as we passed one pen on our way out, the volunteer said, "Here's Faith, do you want to meet her?"  
This dog was timid, and took the treats from my hand daintily and apologetically.  There was no frantic jumping, and she actually stood still long enough for me to pet her.  She was listed as a whippet, and I'm pretty sure she is indeed at least half whippet or greyhound.  She struck me as being needy, and I decided this was indeed my Iris.
As we signed all the paperwork, another volunteer gave us what information they had on my dog:  She had been transferred from KC animal control, where she had only one day left to live; dogs there only have from two days to a week to live.  
Somebody had cared about her in the past, because she came to Wayside Waifs already microchipped and spayed.  Her age was estimated at between three and six years old.  
At the car, Cliff opened the trunk to get the pet carrier out, and Iris jumped eagerly into the trunk!  We got a laugh out of this and coaxed her out.  
Cliff opened the car door to put the pet carrier in the back seat and Iris eagerly jumped in the back seat.  She was ready to be out of prison.  Honestly, I wanted her in the carrier; but Cliff figured it would be less stressful to let her be free in the car, since she obviously knew her way around a vehicle.  She was all over that car on the way home.

Nose out the window...

Up behind the back seat...

Head out the window... and she finally ended up in front next to me.  Observing all this, Cliff said, "The way she jumps around on things, I'll bet we're going to have a problem with her getting on furniture."  
He hit the nail on the head.  
Obviously in her former life, she slept in bed with her people, and curled up on their chairs and couches. I have to correct her very gently, because she is easily upset.  If I find we can't break her of this behavior, I may try compromising, allowing her one chair, covered with a throw or a sheet, as her own.   From what I've found on the Internet, it's very hard to break a mature dog of getting on furniture.  We'll deal with it.
On the plus side, she seems very much "potty-trained".  

She loves kids, and actually wanted to go home with granddaughter Natalie.  She was very upset when Nattie left.  Oh, and to my friend Joanna:  Iris loves the toy you brought as a gift for Sadie; she chewed up and down on it until she found the squeak.  
I'm fairly certain Iris has a case of kennel cough, which is almost inevitable in a shelter dog; she is asleep on the floor beside me right now, and her lungs are rattling: if it turns out to be a severe case, we'll take her to the vet; she needs to meet him anyway.  We went through this with Sadie when she first came home with us.  Meanwhile, we'll keep Iris away from Angel and Hawkeye until she's fit.