This is Tori.

She’s got Yellow Lab and God knows what else in her. She weighs 35 pounds, her legs are about seven inches long, and her underbite gives her a perpetual, Mona Lisa smile. My dad surprised us with her when I was six years old. It was on Halloween that my sister and I arrived home from school to him holding a little blonde puppy. She instantly became a part of the family.

I was a high energy child — to say the least — and she was a high energy dog. We bonded quickly; I never lacked a friend to play with when I was young. Tori loved to run, and she was fast too. She would get so low as she ran that her stomach was just barely grazing the ground; we could never let her off the leash because she would just run all over the place. She loves being outside and is so excited to simply go about and experience things. She loves sniffing things, looking at things, and she’ll try to eat anything at least once.

When I was little, Tori and I used to race up the stairs; I could never beat her. She used to run up on jungle gyms with me and go down the slides, even the spiral ones. Every morning, she would wake me up by jumping on my bed, licking my face, and stepping all over me. She was the first one I saw every time I came through the door of my house; as I grew older and came home later, she would even be there to greet me when I came home in the early morning hours.

Tori’s 14 now, and she’s been around for about three-fourths of my life. Now, she takes one step of the stairs at a time, and I have to wait for her at the top. We don’t run on jungle gyms anymore, we take slow walks or lay down in the grass together. Sometimes she wakes me up in the mornings, but she sleeps a lot more now. Her hearing isn’t too good so she doesn’t wake up to greet me when I get home.

But none of this gets in the way of her enjoying life. She still bounces around the house, she still rolls around in the snow and runs through leaves, she constantly leaves the yard and walks herself to the nature preserve behind our house or all through the neighborhood, she still makes a mad dash for any piece of food that hits the ground, and even though she sleeps a lot, she’s always down to hang.

Tori is my best friend, and even in good health, 14 is old — it’s 96 in dog years. I know that there will be a day, not very far in the future, that this bubbly little bread loaf of a dog won’t be around. It’s going to be a hard day because she has been such a huge piece of my life.

This dog gets me; I talk to her all the time, she’ll give me looks, and I swear we get each other and are on the same page. I know I may sound ridiculous, but I’m sure anyone will tell you they have the same bond with their childhood pet. I cherish every moment I have with her.

Through her life, Tori has always been the happiest thing in the room. The only thing she needs is to be around her people, and I’ve honestly learned a lot from her.

She taught me to really take in what’s around me — quite literally to stop and smell the roses. It’s important to make time to just rest and think, preferably on a cool wood floor or maybe a soft grassy area in the sun.

Never turn down food. If it’s in your area, try it; if you don’t like it, spit it out and maybe come back and try again later. You might like it eventually.

A good nap can work wonders. In times of stress, a quick snooze will temporarily alleviate any issue you’re having. When you wake up, you’ll be fresh and can think about it with a clearer head. Works well for deciding if you should get into the trash while no one’s home or any other important life decisions.

Every step is a big step. Don’t take for granted any time on your feet. You won’t always be able to get around so easily, but you should never stop exploring. There’s so much to see out there; people to meet, places to go, trees to pee on.

Know anyone for 14 years and you’re bound to learn something from them. It may be hard for someone who doesn’t have any pets to wrap their head around the idea, but your animals can teach you so much. I spent most of my life interacting with and watching Tori behave in the world. She is inquisitive, friendly, excited, and energetic. Whenever I take her out, I meet new people; they are drawn to her. Tori sees everyone as a friend first; in reality, that can be scary, but to let down our walls, to set aside our predisposed nature of being wary with new people and things, is to open ourselves up to good. That’s all I really want out of life.

I will carry Tori up the stairs when she gets tired, I will lift her into my bed so she can sleep up next to me, I will stop and wait for as long as she wants to sniff a random area of grass, I will hold her during thunderstorms, and I will love her until it’s time to say goodbye. I look at my dog and am instantly filled with so much love, I scratch her soft little ears and my worries wash away. There isn’t much she can’t fix. You know if you know, you know? There is nothing like the love of a childhood pet, there is nothing like the love of a senior dog. We have so much to learn from their ways.