I arrived at the SPCA in Walvis Bay as a cheeky puppy and somehow landed on the euthanasia list three times. On the third round Dr. Marie-Louise finally said out loud, "I have always wanted a small brown dog." She cancelled everything, put me in her car, and took me home. I decided that day she was mine forever.

For years I came to work every day: bed under the desk, official treat tester, and tiny proof that gentle care and cooked chicken fix almost anything. I was the practice's first therapy dog, even if I never made it onto payroll.

These days I am retired from the daily commute. When the team is working I stay with the in-laws for five-star doggy day care. At home I follow my human from room to room, sleep pressed against her legs, and deliver a slow, dignified tail wag inspection when she walks in.

One rule stands: nobody treats Pippa. Acupuncture, laser, injections? Absolutely not. She can do it for everyone else; her own little brown dog is exempt.