Here she is: The Lucky Dog, pictured here taking some sun at our house in Southampton NY.
A 65 pound English Shepherd, she's nearly 10 years old now, and seems as much a puppy today as she did when we rescued her from the shelter.
And yet she's wise and gentle, smart and funny, like an old friend you've known all your life. She knows how to comfort you when you're hurting, how to make you laugh when you're sad, how to be helpful when you need a bit of a hand, how to scare off the threatening bunnies and deer that come visiting, and how to bust chops when you've taken root on the couch for far too long.
When PMR came along, Lucky sat with me, heaving heavy sighs when I did. She picked up the things I dropped on the floor, licked up the things I spilled, brought me the paper, a book, a sweater...She helped me open doors, made sure no one bumped me in a crowd, and walked patiently by my side as I hobbled along.
She takes very good care of us. We named her Lucky, but we're the lucky ones.