She filled people with happiness

When I was in college, I had friends who lived in a little apartment less than half a mile from my dorm. They had four cats, and aside from Basil, who was not your typical cat, I didn't particularly care. Growing up, I'd never had a cat because of my mom's allergies. I don't understand cats. I'm always left asking, "What do you want from me?"

But dogs are another story. Dogs give unconditional love and acceptance, and leave me feeling warm and fuzzy after encountering one. My friends, Lucas and Ella, (all names have been changed to protect the innocent) had one of the best dogs. She was a Boxer named Zara.

She was a bouncy dog, full of energy, always eager to play. But she had moments where she was cuddly too. I remember watching a movie with Lucas and Ella. Zara kept her head in my lap for almost forty minutes straight.

She was accepting, and in this way, she reflected her owners. I remember coming over for the first time. Lucas had asked me to watch Zara and the cats while he and Ella were gone for the weekend. He told me they didn't lock the doors, and that he didn't actually know the location of the spare key. I found this surprising behavior in a college town. (I feel comfortable sharing that because they have since moved.) His response was "No one's stolen anything yet."

They welcomed others into their home and knew how to enjoy life. When I would go over, "Make yourself at home," was always their emphasis. The times I went there were a pleasant getaway from the college life, and their apartment was a place of calm, away from the stress of nursing school.

In this environment, Zara lived and thrived. She showed unconditional love, which is what dogs do best. And in the ways that dogs get to be there for us, she was there for me.

I was in my junior year of college. The stress of nursing classes was running high. My laptop had had its hard drive erased. There was a little over a month left in the semester. I had lost copious amounts of study material, and the final cumulative nursing exam was fast approaching. I was irritated and had been trying to recreate my notes.

I needed to get away and wanted to go somewhere off campus. I texted Lucas, asking if I could use the apartment space and experience some much-needed pet therapy. Lucas responded that he and Ella were both at work, but that I was more than welcome to go to the apartment, make tea, and otherwise make myself at home.

I went, grateful for the change. Zara greeted me, always her wonderful, bouncy self. She was eager to play and instantly started teasing me with her rope toy. After a bit of fetch and tug-of-war, I settled down to study and managed to fit in several productive hours of work.

I left, refreshed, and much more happy than I had been when I'd come.

I have since graduated, and Lucas and Ella have moved away. It was one of those good times that inevitably had to end. We've stayed in touch, with me sometimes sending pictures of my own dog, and Lucas responding with pics of Zara.

I miss them. And I miss Zara. She got old and developed health problems. The time came when they decided to have her put down. Ella sent me a final selfie of herself with Zara. From hundreds of miles away, I felt a pang of sorrow.

Zara was a good dog. She made the world a happier and more loving place. She showed unconditional love. She helped me feel happier and made my life more full. And I know I'm not the only person who would say that. I'm thankful Zara got to be a part of my life, even if it was only for a few years.

I hope that I won't forget the lessons she taught me:

Be generous.

Be eager.

Love people.