Sweet Angel

Sweet Angel





February 12, 1989 ----- February 2, 1999





I remember bringing you home. You were so small and cuddly with your tiny paws and soft fur.
You bounced around the room with eyes flashing and ears flopping.
Once in a while you'd let out a little yelp just to let me know this was your territory.
Making a mess of the house and chewing on everything in sight became a passion,
and when I scolded you, you just put your head down and looked up at me with those
innocent eyes as if to say "I'm sorry."

As you got older, you protected me by looking out the window and barking at everyone who walked by.
When I had a tough day at work, you would be waiting for me with your tail wagging, just to say,
"Welcome home. I missed you."
You never had a bad day, and I could always count on you to be there for me.
When I sat down to read the paper and watch TV, you would hop on my lap, looking for attention.
You would never ask for anything more than to have me pat your head so you could go to
sleep with your head over my leg. As you got older, you moved around more slowly.

Then one day old age finally took it's toll, and you couldn't stand on those wobbly legs anymore.
I knelt down and patted you lying there, trying to make you young again.
You just looked up at me as if to say that you were old and tired and that after all
these years of not asking for anything, you had to ask me for just one favor.
With tears in my eyes, I drove you one last time to the vet. One last time, you were able
to stand up in the animal hospital; perhaps it was your sense of pride. As the vet led
you away, you stopped for an instant, turned your head and looked at me as if to say,
"Thank you for taking care of me."
I thought "No thank you for taking care of me."