Superpower Levi

He wasn't just any dog; he had a superpower. I was not an animal lover (my husband is) and I thought I could live the rest of my days without a dog. No dog fur to vacuum, no vet bills, and grocery store trips without having to purchase dog chow suited me. Then along came Levi, a mahogany boxer puppy with white paws who had a penchant for ice cubes. He "sang"—soulful songs—whenever my husband played the harmonica (badly). If anyone peeled an orange, he appeared, begging for a slice. He nuzzled close beside me when I cried over the loss of my brother's dog. He had the ability to look at me with his dark brown eyes as though he could see into my soul.

He discovered what worked and that was to put his head on my lap when the clock chimed 6 PM---—his way of reminding me that it was dinner time. I’d stop what I was doing and fill his bowl as he’d twirl in circles--—his happy dance.

The seizures were the start of his decline; I sat with him on the sofa and doubted I could live without him. He died on a December morning even though I begged him not to leave us.

Levi transformed me into an animal lover; that was his superpower. When I met our new puppy for the first time I was able to embrace her without a moment's hesitation. I scooped her into my arms and held her against my heart.

Levi trained me well.