Four years had passed since I’d lost Casey, and before him there was Sunny, the sweetest guy ever. I also welcomed Sunny’s brother, Jesse, a wonderful rascal. All three were beautiful purebred American cocker spaniels. We shared many years together, and while I never fully recovered from losing a pet, after four years I felt ready for the companionship of another spaniel.

With my trusted old breeder retired, the reputable kennel research began. Boy, had the cost of cockers gone up, but I was a purebred dog snob.

Carpooling to a club meeting on a brisk January day, my driving companion mentioned that her neighbor (an acquaintance of mine) was quite ill and had been taken to the hospital. “It doesn’t look good,” she said.

And here’s where things got interesting. Normally my response would have been, “Sorry to hear that, he’s such a sweet man, hope things improve.” Instead, I said, “Where is his dog?”

The rest of the conversation went like this: “The poor animal is being boarded, really needs a permanent home, and has some problems. If you’re interested, I can put you in touch with the right person.” For reasons beyond my understanding I responded, “Okay.”

Since it was obvious something wiser than myself was in charge, I wasn’t too surprised to learn that the “right person” was someone I’d known for years. She happily arranged for me to meet the dog.

A few days later I sat on the floor as a scruffy, one-eyed shih tzu/poodle, etc. circled around me, sniffed from head to toe, and snuggled into my lap. I placed a hand on his soft head, closed my eyes, and opened my heart and home to sweet Dusty, who was about as far from a trouble-free purebred cocker spaniel as I could get.

From the beginning, Dusty was a well-behaved love of a critter. He enjoyed his toys, snuggled happily in his bed, and got along with the cats, but there were issues. He screeched like a barn owl when he was in the car, froze when approaching a bare floor and, with only one eye causing poor depth perception, stairs were a huge problem.

On our first car trip to the veterinarian, Dusty was tucked safely in his crate, completely engrossed in screeching, with me blabbering, “It’s okay, Dusty, you’re safe.” He didn’t give a hoot about logic. Addressing the car problem, the vet was reassuring. “Play music, try a car seat that lets him see out the window, take him for short drives,” they recommended.We listened to John Denver on the way home, me singing, Dusty yowling. “Calm down, be patient, lighten up,” I told myself. In the house we were consoled with treats – a chicken tidbit for Dusty, a bag of cookies for me.

Following the vet’s advice, after several months there was improvement. With his blanket Dusty settled securely into the carrier attached to the back seat of the Jeep. We took short journeys listening to oldies. On the way out there was a little pretend screeching. We’d park and go for a walk. On the way home, not a sound.

The bare floors were an easy fix with throw rugs here and there. The stairs were a different issue. Dusty was fine on flat terrain, but the five deck steps leading to his fenced yard, all open on the backs and sides, were troubling. He was very hesitant going both up and down and required a lot of hands-on help. It was upsetting for both of us.

To eliminate the precarious open spaces, I had our carpenter nail risers to the back of the steps and placed small garden figurines at the ends of each so there was something to feel on either side. Gluing outdoor mats to the steps was a big help as well. Dusty hesitated at first, but quickly got the hang of navigating his safe passage. My little dude was making great strides.

As for me, I progressed, too. Ditching the purebred snobbery, I chose instead to age with a patchwork pup, a potpourri of loyalty, trust, and love.

Good aging spirits, fellow critter folks.

Carole Marshall is a former columnist and feature writer for a national magazine. She’s had stories published in Chicken Soup for the Soul books, and has written two novels and one fitness book. She is Mom, Grandma, and Great-Grandma to some spectacular kiddos.