This Is The Last Dog We'll Ever Own. Here's What He's Taught Me About Love.

My husband, Stu, was ready to downsize five years ago. It took me longer to come around, but I’m ready too. Mostly. Because before we can sell our house and embrace a simpler lifestyle, we’ll have to let go of a lot — and I don’t just mean our accumulation of household “stuff.” We can’t cross that bridge until our dog crosses the Rainbow Bridge. The thought alone floods me with grief.

Chase is a German shepherd-smooth collie mix we adopted from a rescue group in 2010, nine days after putting our last dog to sleep.

“I can’t do this again,” I’d cried to my vet as she euthanized our golden retriever.

This was the second golden we’d lost to cancer in a six-year period. As much as I loved the breed, it was prone to cancer, and I couldn’t endure another early death. Maybe a mixed breed would help us hedge our bets.

“I have a collie mix,” my vet said. “Do you want to see a picture?”

He had a long snout and sweet eyes. I smiled through my tears.

“I know a woman who does rescue. If you want, I’ll put you in touch.”

Days later, I channeled my sorrow into Petfinder, searching through photos of available dogs on the rescue group’s page. It’s where I saw “Marty,” a 1-year-old mix found wandering around a trailer park in Kentucky, who was now being fostered in the Philadelphia suburbs. They suspected he might have been abused. I convinced Stu and Sammie, our 13-year-old daughter, to come with me to check him out.

Marty’s foster mom owned two purebred collies, round and wooly as sheep. Marty was smaller — about 42 pounds, his ribs still prominent from surviving on the streets. His brown and white fur was soft as a mink and his eyes were soulful and searching.

I was charmed by Marty’s ears, which perched upright one moment and