We never had been "dog people" - I remember my husband once explaining to someone that we weren't regular enough for a dog.
Then, for reasons too complicated to go into, along came Natalie, our daughter's puppy from hell. By the time Natalie was six months old, with the hems of most of my skirts in tatters, I decided that she was too exhausting for a family of mere people, and maybe a canine companion would keep her entertained.
So I took Natalie to the animal shelter to pick out a friend. Mostly, I wanted a grown dog, definitely NOT another puppy.
At the shelter, most of the dogs displayed profound indifference to Natalie (possibly resentment that they were confined behind fences while she came prancing in on a leash). But Suzie came up to the fence and they nosed each other. That was enough for me. She was about a year old, black and white, shaggy, and shaped a bit like an overstuffed footstool. When I called her over, she would go down on her belly and grovel toward me rather than walking - a sign that she had been abused. She eventually got over it, although our kids derided her for having no self-esteem, preferring the self-confident alpha bitch from hell. So Suzie quickly became MY dog.
At that time, I was attending at the county nursing home two mornings a week. With Christmas approaching, one day I decided it would be nice to tie a big red bow around Suzie's neck and bring her with me. After that one visit, I was no longer allowed to show up without her. Forget about "Good morning, Dr. Laura" - it was "Where's Suzie?" Although Suzie was afraid of men, she was fine with men in wheelchairs. She was never a jumping-up-on-people dog, but would put her head in the nursing home residents' laps to be stroked. She entertained them by catching pieces of banana I threw to her. She sat quietly by me while I did my charts. People would ask how I trained her to follow me without a leash - but the truth is, I never trained her. She just liked to be with me. And we continued, two mornings a week, as the team of "Dr. Laura and Suzie" (actually, "Suzie and Dr. Laura") for over five years.
At one point, one of the writers for the local weekly rag decided to do an article about Suzie and her job at the nursing home. When the paper came out, a teaser at the top of page one read "Suzie the Wonderdog - see page 5." Which is how she got her title.
For years I had a dinosaur kind of medical practice, which is to say, it was in my home ("the world's shortest commute"). Although I'm sure the Department of Health wouldn't have approved if they knew about it, sometimes a dog or cat was the best way to deal with a recalcitrant child. One little girl (who had always been a real pain in the neck before Suzie appeared on the scene) would always come in and demand to see "Doctor Suzie-dog."
One of Suzie's problems, being as sociable as she was, was that our resident cats were not interested in her. So I brought her back to the shelter to pick out a kitten of her own. The friendly shelter people (who knew me well as a long-time sucker) brought us in one kitten at a time see if we could find the right chemistry. Most of the kittens either ignored us or hid in the litter box. But one black and white male, who oddly enough looked a lot like Suzie, sniffed at her and proceeded to chase after some dead leaves, coming back now and then to make sure we were still watching. We decided he was the one. At times I think Suzie may have regretted that decision as we watched Sylvester (the only time we ever kept an animal shelter name) chase Suzie's wagging tail, or lie in ambush for her as she came into the house. But as he morphed from a hilarious kitten to an old and stately cat, it was nice to see him come smooching around Suzie, who tolerated it with her usual patience.
And then, gradually, the expected. Who can complain when a dog lives 14 mostly-good years? Old age, cataracts, arthritis, lung cancer. I sat by her, trying to improve her breathing by the force of my love.
But if love could make the difference, no one's beloved dog would ever die.