Mushroom is a sixteen-pound creature with fluffy formerly black-and-white — now grey-and-white — fur, who joined our household long ago, as what I called, ruefully at the time, "the divorce dog."

Mushroom arrived when all was in flux, and his lively puppyhood provided a welcome distraction as our household was changing from having been a family of four — a mom, a dad, two small kids — to three; me, a single mother, with two little ones.

From the very start, Mushroom was by far the largest personality in the family.

A small dog of vast opinions, Mushroom was selective in how he bestowed his attention. He might condescend to curl up against you — more often than not, facing away.

Mushroom is not a Nana-type dog, selflessly protecting the children. And he is not a Lassie-type dog, nobly putting himself in danger for the sake of others.