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As I type this, my dog Vera licks my forearm down to my fingers. It’s her way of asking for a belly rub. I try to type with one hand so I can use my left hand to scratch the back of her ear to appease her. A few minutes in and she jumps off the bed, retreating to her usual corner. She’s good now.
I still remember the day I saw her. It was a warm summer afternoon, Justine and I have been searching in dog groups on Facebook to find the perfect mutt — a white male Maltese that doesn’t come from a breeder — when we saw a photo of a cute 3-month-old puppy. Her coat was white with a heart-shaped spot of light brown on her back, light brown circles around her eyes, and a few strands of black and brown on her ears. Her name then was “Mimi,” and her former owner was trying to find her a new home because no one can take care of her anymore. At that moment, I knew I wanted to take care of her. Little did I know she would be the one who would take care of me.
I read somewhere that our pets are reflections of ourselves, and true enough, Vera is like me in many ways. We’re both early risers and light sleepers. We like to snuggle up into corners when we sleep. She’s stubborn and likes to do things her way.
As Vera grew, so did my heart. She’s been my constant companion for four years now (nope, she’s not a pandemic pet!) and…
