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Clementine, our young Schnauzer mix, was making her very first therapy-dog visit. At the Assisted Living home, she sat happily in the lap of a woman who stroked her and cooed, "Clementine, give me a kiss!" She asked again and again, and I was about to confess that Clementine wasn't a licky dog. But before I could speak, Clementine leaned in and gently licked the woman's cheek, several times. It was the first moment — but certainly not the last — I watched my pup transform into a therapist. "I love you, Clementine!" the woman said. Me too. — Janice Baldwin-Hench
I lost my dog during the pandemic and went looking for a new co-pilot once I was ready. I searched for months, always losing out to others applying for the same pets, and rescues farther away wouldn't transport. So I kept refreshing listings online while battling an arthritis flare-up. A friend suggested trying Mexico — The Sula Society. The day before my birthday, I spotted a small, cute, scruffy pup just posted. I applied, certain it would take forever. The next day, on my 50th, the call came: I'd been chosen. Happy tears. Then, the day before her flight, she slipped away from the flight angel! She was re-rescued weeks later. A miracle. — Rebecca Lyons
Picture via MarySalen/bigstock.com
I am the old dog at your feet, with graying fur and missing teeth. Like a well-worn shoe, I wobble a little now. "There is comfort in sleep," the cat told me years ago. I didn't believe it then, because I'd been warned never to trust felines — but now I understand. As I snore at your feet, I dream of times when we both raced through the park. Are my feet moving? Thank you for those times, because now, like a bone buried for safekeeping, I can savor the memory. — Joseph A. Dewan
Our little Leia and I were trying to nap. I could tell by her breathing she'd already drifted off to dreamland. Suddenly, her tail began to wag. Who did she see? When Leia was eleven months old, we brought Teddy Bear home — and he instantly became the puppy she'd never have. From that very first day until his last, she kept his eyes clean. He passed away ten months ago. Sometimes she stands waiting for him to appear. But he never does. He never will. I take comfort in knowing he comes to her in her dreams. — Cheryl M. Taylor
It's been a decade since Wally crossed the rainbow bridge, and I still can't recall why he was named Walter T. He was named for a friend's brother — but where did the T. come from? He answered to so many names: Wally The Dog, The Silver Bullet, The Great Grey Hunter of the Northern Woods, Wallinator, The Walrus, or simply "the dog wearing the purple bear bell." His true identity was Alpha. I hope there's a green wingback chair he can sleep on in between chasing rabbits and big horned sheep. Maybe this time he'll finally catch one. — Susan Petrick
In 1988, I gave two dollars to a drug dealer for a mutt named Maxine. I could barely pay my bills then — how was I supposed to afford a dog? Maxine shredded shoes, toothpaste, a Rubik's cube, and books. Yet when I'd walk through the door to total devastation, those sparkling eyes won me over every time. We shared an unbreakable bond. In January 1994, a car hit me. Friends looked after Maxine while I recovered. She helped soften my rage and showed me that life had a purpose. Maxine died in February 2001, and she holds a tender place in my heart forever. That was the best two dollars I ever spent. — Debra White
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