I write often about the bond between people and their dogs. But I don’t think I’ve mentioned my idea that it should be the dog’s choice, not the humans. Red decided to be my dog, as did Rose and Izzy.

Frieda chose to be Maria’s dog, Lenore and Bud chose to be family dogs. Dogs are dependent on humans for almost everything, thus their love cannot be unconditional.

It was my hope that Zinnia might choose to be my dog, and join me in the therapy work that has become so central and important in my life. I also have always written with a dog at my feet, and have missed that acutely since Red death.

Labs are family dogs, unlike many other working breeds, they love everyone they live with. But sometimes they will form special attachments to people so that their work together can deepen.

Yesterday, Zinnia decided to be my dog.

She decided that her safe place in the farmhouse is right underfoot, right next to me as I work. She has made my work feel whole again, and right. Dogs can do that, as many of you know.

She made her choice. She lay down next to me as I wrote and went to sleep. In the dog world, this is a way to say I love you and want to be with you. She is a very active and curious dog, it is unusual for her to be so still for so long.  Some dogs just become what you need them to be.

This morning, as I was writing, I felt this pressure against my shoe. I looked down and it was Zinnia, her head resting on my foot, sound asleep as I wrote. She has been outside in the snow several times this morning and is tired, I think, but her choice of a resting place is significant to me.

This meant a lot to me, as I wrote last night and I called Maria like a little schoolboy to tell her that Zinnia was sleeping at my feet and I could no longer move my chair without risking running over one of her ears.

I find myself unable to move or get up and I’ll have to ask Maria to come into the farmhouse and call Zinnia away from my chair. Otherwise, I think I’d just sit here all day and write and write.

A good writing dog is a precious thing. My writing career began with Julius and Stanley, two yellow labs and the most wonderful writing dogs ever, at least until Red. I see I don’t quite have the words to talk about what this means to me., but I’ll there.

I was warned early on that a writer’s life can get lonely and disconnected – we always work alone, we need to be alone and have space to think (at least, until social media).

Dogs have been with me on this wonderful journey every step of the way, and I am excited to think another one has entered my life and has chosen to walk (and sleep) with me as I work.