In the ordinary course of our everyday lives, it’s rare—or at least it’s rare for me—to hear something that moves us deeply. Sometimes, this kind of profound emotion is inspired by a very surprising or unexpected source.

I had an experience like this recently, related to a dog. I love dogs—I loved our Miniature Schnauzer Paddy-wack when I was growing up, and I love our cockapoo Barnaby now, and I like dogs generally.

I was deeply moved by a line from a story that my friend, journalist Sarah Lyall, wrote for the New York Times, when she was reporting on the agility competition at the famous Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show.

In the story “The unwanted shelter dog who found his way to Westminster,” she wrote about Miles, one of the dog competitors, who is described as an “All-American dog,” which is the American Kennel Club’s name for mutts.

The interesting thing about Miles was that he started as a “virtually unadoptable rescue dog,” and he now competes against the top agility dogs in the country.

The person who brought him to the show is Christine Longnecker. She and Miles met at the Because You Care animal shelter in Pennsylvania. Miles, known as Tank at the time, tended to snarl, growl, and snap at everyone at the shelter. But when Christine Longnecker showed up, Miles walked quietly to the front of his kennel and sat down.

The article quotes Longnecker telling the story:

He looked me straight in the eye and said, clear as day, “I just want to be a good boy.” All of a sudden this overwhelming sadness washed over me, the sense of his not being able to prove himself because he’d been told that he was a bad dog. My heart broke into a million pieces.

The shelter workers were astonished when Longnecker took this dog into her car. Gradually, Miles settled down, felt safe, and in time became a champion at agility competitions.

I loved hearing how this bewildered, lost dog was discovered by someone who understands and loves him, and was able to see his potential and to help him develop his skills. She saw that he was a good dog.

I think I was so moved by this story because it reminds me to aspire to the purity and intensity of the wordless love of a dog.

Among other things, I remind myself to strive to show the same enthusiasm when my husband Jamie or my daughters Eliza and Eleanor walk through the front door as our dog Barnaby shows. I think of a line from the Richard Powers novel, The Echo Maker: “There isn’t a human being in the world worthy of any dog’s welcome.”