The winter after my diagnosis was the darkest stretch of my life, and my rescue mutt Rosie appointed herself my night nurse. She would not settle unless she was touching me, and she refused to let me skip our morning walk, no matter how I pleaded with my eyes. That walk was often the only reason I got dressed. Vets call it routine and companionship. I call it a small furry angel with no concept of my self-pity. She needed me, and needing to be needed is powerful medicine. We are both doing much better now, thank you for asking.
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