The Dog My Mom Loves So Much 

The emergency medical technicians are worried that my 88-year-old mother is experiencing a heart attack while we are on our way to the emergency room in an ambulance. 

Despite my assurances that someone will be sent to collect him, she continues to inquire, 

from her gurney in the midst of the busy emergency room, as to my assessment of his condition. 

In a fit of craziness around five years ago, my sister and I bought a small maltipoo for our mother, the writer Anne Roiphe, to make her feel less lonely at this stage of her life. 

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We were cognizant that this choice would spark debate. She was a loner. 

It was awful how she moved around. Even with the aid of her cane, she had trouble getting around her flat. 

On the other hand, my mom was overjoyed. In an instant, Ajax curled up in her lap.  

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