So many beautiful and wonderful dogs waiting for me in Heaven. There’s Prince, a collie-mix stray dog who wandered into our yard and stayed.

My family called Prince my dog, but he loved us all. He climbed the ladder with us kids and jumped down out of the loft into the hay repeatedly, following our example so he could spend time with us. He saved me from being crushed to death by the neighbor’s cow when she pinned me against the wall and charged. Then, as mysteriously as he came, Prince left. An unsolved mystery. Perhaps that’s why I write mysteries? I spent weeks searching for him to no avail.

Then there was Esther. Some folks claimed Esther was the smartest dog in the world. She would wander into the newspaper office where I worked, sit down in front of each person, and carry on an earnest conversation with them. On delivery days when we cut the newspaper bundles, Esther picked up the plastic straps and dropped them into the trash can.

Esther had a sense of humor. She hunkered down out of sight in the truck and rushed to the window with ferocious barking when an unsuspecting person approached. Then she sat back in the seat, tongue lolling, laughing. She used the same tactics on the yappy neighbourhood dogs, ignoring them as we walked past, then spinning around to lunge at them, laughing as they scattered.

We picked up a lost, starving 150-pound dog of unknown breed and origin, took him home, and nursed him back to health. We named him Jonah. We took Esther and Jonah to a dog show. Esther had practiced a cute routine for the show which included crawling. It was pouring with rain that day and Esther refused to touch the ground with her tummy. She excelled in the obedience category—until it came to lying down. At the end of the show, Esther won three red, second place ribbons. Jonah won three first place ribbons: biggest dog; dog with the longest tail; most unique dog. We put the ribbons in two separate plastic bags. Even years later when we held up the two bags and asked Esther which ribbons were hers—she picked the first place ribbons.

Then Scot, the collie who won everyone’s heart. When Scot was a puppy, he watched me cutting brush and pulling it into the burn pile. He quickly began helping me. I lavished praise on him—which was a mistake. I came home from work to find an empty fish pond and a trail of water to the brush pile where Scot had carefully piled all the water lilies and reeds.

Scot befriended a feral cat in Texas. When I moved, I had to capture the cat and take her with us because Scot was her only friend. In Alabama, Scot made friends with all the cats in the neighborhood where I walked him. He helped feed and care for a baby bird I found in the street. He protected animals that wandered into my sister’s yard when her dog tried to kill them—like an opossum and turtle.

Scot helped when my sister and I tore wet floorboards out of one of the rooms so I could tile it. He dragged them out of the room and into the rubbish pile. Sadly, that might have been where he picked up the rare, untreatable disease that claimed his life.

Now we have Savannah, a dog who somehow continues to survive without eating. I’m thankful we have pet insurance because with her wonky pancreas, she is the most expensive dog in upkeep that I’ve ever had and the most exasperating in terms of feeding. No need to fear strangers handing her unhealthy treats, or her scarfing up some unknown food substance on walks—because she doesn’t like to eat.

Savannah understands everything we say. She eavesdrops on conversations. Still, she does not demonstrate her intelligence in action as did Esther, nor is she as compassionate as Scot. Nor has she ever saved my life like Prince. However, she has something that every child—every person—needs to possess. She has a deep sense of self-worth.

Because she is a beautiful dog, people have made a fuss over her since she was a puppy. Other dogs like her because she is friendly and non-aggressive. Almost every person she has met since puppyhood has stopped to pet her and call her “gorgeous.” Some ask her to pose for pictures.

Once when I was walking her we passed a young couple deep in conversation. The guy said to the girl, “You are gorgeous.” Savannah spun around and raced back to them. She thought the guy had called her.

Savannah has never known anything other than love and acceptance. That’s the way humans should raise their children. No matter where I take her, Savannah looks for people to meet and greet. She thinks it makes them happy and makes their world better. Perhaps it does. She reminds me of the Mary Poppins song “Chim, chimney, Chim, chim, cher-oo, Good luck will rub off when I shakes hands with you.” She believes that she is the magic that can make everything better.

And perhaps she can. Perhaps all of us can if we reach out to others and make the effort.

“A person who has friends must be friendly.” Proverbs 18:24

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