She’s a family member who wears more hats than Beyonce. Her roles are varied — but vital — and I think she knows it. She even has this self-important strut as she trots through our house. Yes, Libby knows she’s not only loved, but needed. Here are the six vital roles this Yorkie/Papillion plays.

Fitness coach – Because of Libby, I walk outside everyday, almost without exception. Through each season, we take the same route — going down our driveway to the road, hooking a right, going up the next street to the first mailbox, turning around, and returning the same way. Yes, hardly the Appalachian Trail, but it feels good.

And although we trod the same path each day, Libby’s always entranced. There’s always a new patch of ground to sniff and dig into. From the green grass of summer, to piles of fall leaves, to the fresh, moist earth of spring, to snowy patches of winter, Libby loves it all. Without this dog, I might not have this daily foray, which I know she loves, but has helped me too.

Protector – The world sees Libby as an adorable pint-sized terrier, but Libby sees herself as a menacing German Shepherd straight out of a 1940’s World War II movie. If any unauthorized car pulls into our driveway, Libby goes into apoplectic rage, giving off noise levels that would scare off Metallica.

Libby sees her main role as protector. She’s territorial and anything that encroaches on her turf, including bees and chipmunks, is subject to immediate dressing down. Not till this violating offender (like the Uber Eats driver or mailman) is off our property will Libby relax. Yes, we all breathe easier — but with aching ears — knowing Libby’s on guard.

Writing coach – Libby sits on the back of my chair each day as I scribble. (In fact, she’s here right now). Its almost like she’s saying, “Don’t even think of getting up until you’ve finished this blog post.” I obey. Because of Libby’s warm body keeping me company, I’ve stayed longer in my seat than before when it was just lonely me.

The dog also knows when its quitting time. Sometimes the hours get away and out of the blue, Libby jumps off the chair and starts “talking.” It’s not really a bark, but almost like she’s trying to use her vocal chords. I know what she’s saying: You can stop now. Pay attention to me. Work is done. I need a treat. Because of Libby, I’ve become more productive.

Playmate – Libby schedules playtime each day as if to remind us all to get out of ourselves. And although her sport can get a tad “violent” with lots of growls if anyone tries and takes away her pink plush bunny and frantic head tosses with “prey” in mouth, Libby needs this everyday.

Nothing makes her happier than a game of Fetch. If I happen to snatch away the toy and throw it (over and over… and over), she’s in heaven and it’s a good way to tire her out. Many times, especially at the end of the day, I’ll stop what I’m doing and we’ll play “Keep away.” Strangely, I find at the end of these sessions, I’m lighter and happier. The world’s problems have ebbed a little, thanks to Libby, and I’m grateful.

Nurse – My husband Randy wasn’t feeling well last week and needed lots of rest. Guess who was his Florence Nightingale? Yes, Libby stayed by Randy’s side wherever he was, whether needing extra sleep in our bedroom or relaxing in his favorite chair, or sitting at his desk. Libby needed to be with him…always.

Like many dogs, she’s an empath. She senses someone’s low mood or fever and dials down the canine mania. She becomes slower and gentler with whoever’s the patient. She knows that sometimes a dog’s warm body lying right next to you (and I mean, right next to you) can be some of the world’s best medicine.

Teacher – Like all our animals with their shorter lifespans, Libby shows us the passage of time. She’s already throttled down from the impulsive, crazy pup we adopted almost four years ago. She sleeps more and eats less. Her muzzle isn’t gray yet, but it’s getting easier to imagine.

Libby is six years old now, middle-aged. And although she still has enough pep to fuel a rocket, even she has slowed. Like all our animals, Libby will teach us to grow old with acceptance and dignity.

But for now, those days are in the future and I’m grateful. We still have our Libby, the dog that’s so many things to us… and yes, judging by her strut, she knows it.

Does your dog (or cat?) play many roles? Comments are always welcome and if you’d like, please share.

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