This is a picture of my best dog, Hunter. He is, in as much as a dog can be such a thing, my soul-mate. I discovered him at a shelter 7 years ago while searching for a well-trained standard poodle. Needless to say, I was rather mentally ill at the time, mired in an acute depression which was further complicated by cognitive changes caused by multiple sclerosis -- changes of which I was unaware, but which made my life complicated and confusing. It was one of the lowest points of my life - my oldest daughter had become combative and mean, and I had begun to feel smothered by the demands of my children, my husband, and the big, unmanageable house we were living in. I was isolated and lonely - though I'd shunned the idea of a dog in the past suddenly I realized that I needed somebody to be happy to see me when I came home for a change. I needed a little bit of unconditional love, and where better to look than at a kennel? But my husband didn't want a dog - our lives were already chaotic enough. I already couldn't manage the house, the carpools, the endless and stultifying demands of motherhood. But there was a little bit of a spark inside of me, one that hadn't lit up many times in my life. I was going to put myself first and as I approached my 40th birthday it seemed only right that I didn't need anybody's permission to have a dog.

Wanting to respect my husband's wishes at least minimally, I pledged to get an older dog, one already trained and ready to be a family pet. I settled on a standard poodle. I don't remember why. And I stopped by the shelter two or three times a week just to check - maybe somebody would surrender a lovely standard poodle. I'd have to be there right away or someone else would take it.

I met lots of dogs. Most of them barked, or slobbered, or were too big, or too nippy, or just ugly. One leaped from the floor all the way up to the high ceilings in the shelter, requiring her run to have a sort of lid on it just to keep her in. I liked her, but knew that was not the kind of dog I needed.

I overlooked Hunter a few times, because he had a pink nose and I had something against pink-nosed dogs. I don't remember why. But I kept walking by his run and he'd look up at me with his sincere amber eyes as I walked past. He never barked. Finally I asked to visit with him. He was crazy. Nuts. He leaped and spun, eyes bulging, tongue out - so excited to be noticed, to be loved. I questioned, then I turned around and saw him lying calmly on the floor next to a trainer. She had stepped on his leash, giving him no choice but to lie down. He looked at me and I understood that he wanted to please. He just didn't know how. I started falling in love with that silly dog with the pink nose.

They tried to talk me out of it. Hunter was "mouthy," they said. I had kids at home. They brought out other dogs for me to see -- dogs that were "better" for my family, but they meant nothing to me. They climbed up on the seats, sniffed all around, never noticed me. I asked to see Hunter again. I practiced the trick of standing on his leash. I took him outside and walked him in the parking lot. He pulled and jerked at the leash, but once I got his attention I could ask him to sit and he would sit, clearly proud of the accomplishment. He wanted to learn and I wanted to teach him. I brought him back inside and they returned him to his run - he couldn't come home with me until the whole family had met him.

On my way out of the shelter that day I stopped one last time at Hunter's run, to tell him I'd be back. The other dogs were barking like crazy, but Hunter didn't bark. Instead he came up to the gate where I stood and sat down. He looked right up into my eyes and then he did the craziest thing I've ever seen a dog do. He sang to me. It was a prolonged whine, almost a yodel, with his head pitched upward. His song went on long enough for me to look around for a witness. I was seriously worried about my sanity. If I looked back would I see him dancing like Michigan J. Frog? Was I losing my mind, or was this dog really singing for me? I told him to wait for me - I'd be back.