My pup

As I alluded to in my last post, it has been an incredibly difficult week for us. I think I focus on "the little things" even more during hard times -- when the big things become overwhelming, the little things can save me.

This week, my adorable mixed breed dog (she's half Welsh Corgi, but dad was a stranger in the night) has been that little thing. I'll call her Missy*.

She came to me by way of the local shelter and a doggie foster mom when she was an 8-week-old ball of fluff. I had just bought my townhome and I wasn't 100 percent ready for a dog yet, but she was ready for me. My parents' friends' neighbor was the foster mom, and it was a lucky coincidence that my wanting a Corgi came up in conversation.

Her mom had been dropped off at the shelter pregnant. She gave birth to four sweet puppies while in foster care, and all five of them -- mom and pups -- were adopted into loving homes.

She came to me during a particularly lonely time in my life and she did wonders for my mood and outlook. It helped so much to have someone else to care for and consider -- it wasn't just me anymore.

Now, she is three years old and all grown up. Now, I have a husband and two stepkids to care for and consider, in addition to Missy and me. In many ways, she helped prepare my heart for that.

This week, she is also the one I can pull onto my lap when I need comfort. I can just hold her, cuddle with her and pet her (which, of course, she loves). She doesn't ask what's wrong, and she may or may not know that something is "up" in our house, but she offers that consolation anyway.

She is also my willing companion on the long walks I take to clear my head.

I had a terrible dream last night that she was hurt, and I think that is what prompted me to write this post. She is so special to me and I never want to see her hurt.

Thanks, Missy, for what you add to my life (as well as C. and the kids). You are an important and honored member of our family.

*Names changed