Several years ago, my sister L wrote a note to me, contained within a valentine card. Her writing “voice” can be oddly, endearingly formal, sort of New Yorker-ish. From what I remember in the note, she goes down a list of my positive attributes ending with “… and you are a good friend to animals.”

I think this fact is seared into her brain when she witnessed my reaction as a teenager to seeing a documentary on TV, in which a man very cruelly attacks a bird. I went out of my mind with the pain. I just can’t take it when I think about an animal in distress*.

Today’s spotlight turns on some of the friends I’ve known of the canine variety.

Sophie. My brother Peter’s family’s dog in the 1990s. A hound of some sort. Adorable, stubborn, really funny. She was fond of fitting the entire head of Rain, the family cat, into her mouth — not to hurt, just to hold. Sophie and I lived in the same town for a number of years, and she got very close to being able to say “I love you,” thanks to my rigorous training.

Zeke (pictured above). Awesome Min-Pin. Fond of running in circles. Greatly missed.

Sis. A Yellow Lab that lived at the Diamond-J, a dude ranch in Montana owned by some family friends. My mom, aunt, grandma and sister Ann spent a couple weeks there when I was 17. Sis would make her afternoon rounds to every single guest on the ranch, saying hello, accepting treats, and occasionally napping.

Phoenix. Brian’s fantastically beautiful mutt. She was another one with the sense of humor, fond of surprise attacks and making unsuspecting friends shriek. Watching her run on the beach was breathtaking. She died, horribly and suddenly, and we who knew her still feel the pain, 10 years later.

*Yet I eat meat. Some friend.