“My vote was no, so I should be okay.”

Despite being alone, I say this loudly over and over and over again as I make my way up the brick walkway that leads to our house. That I had to go back seventeen years to find this reassurance for myself is troubling, back to when the dog was just a wish, albeit a persistent one coming from our daughter Meredith. That was when I voted no.

Wouldn’t you? Life was already complicated, with barely enough time on any given day to catch my breath. Would you choose to make that life more complicated? Would you willingly agree to even more activity and more responsibility, not to speak of the scratches on the furniture and the accidents on the floor?

But as so often happens in families, my will gave way to the majority; the enthusiasm for a pet won the day and brought a black Labrador puppy into our lives. Upon her arrival, Lizzie quickly proceeded to make all my predictions—and new ones—come true.

More activity? Oh yes. Lizzie came leaping and bounding into our home, jumping and running, wiggling and squirming and getting into things left and right. Quickly, we had to change our ways to keep up with her. We started walking every........

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