To Marco:
Our Little Man.
You came to me Saturday morning, March 20, 1993. You came in for your six-week puppy shot. You yelped during your shot and continued to cry for quite a while longer. Your owner called you Solo because you were the only puppy in the litter. I told the owner that my husband and I were looking for a puppy just like you. He said his wife would kill him if he did not take the puppy home. When he left, I told the staff that my dog has just walked out the door. Sure enough, the wife called and said she could not think of a better home for Solo than with a vet.
We changed your name to Marco. My husband, being an only child himself, did not want to make fun of you being an only child. We went through puppy kindergarten, then companion dog classes I and II. You earned your Canine Good Citizen certification. We continued with obedience classes every week for 2 years! You earned your CD and then we got surprised with a trophy from AMBOR for “Highest Scores for CD in the Southern U.S 1995”. We participated in fly ball. You were the slowest dog on the team, but your size helped lower the jumps for the rest of the dogs. We had fun with agility. You just weren’t a very fast dog. But, when you began to hate the dumbbell in obedience classes, I knew it was time to stop.
You loved your walks. You loved the park across the street from our Texas home. We hated to move you away from your park. We hated to leave your “Aunt” Terri, who took care of you when we had to go to dog unfriendly places. At first, you didn’t like the Colorado Mountains. I think there were too many wild animal smells but the cold temperatures and the snow didn’t bother you. You learned to enjoy your mountain walks. It was only this last winter when there was so much snow that we could barely keep a small
path shoveled for you.
You were such a friendly dog. Everyone thought you were so sweet and cute. You were such a trooper about taking all of your medicines. We miss you so much. I miss you sleeping on the bed. I miss you waking me in the morning. I miss you telling me when it was time to have lunch, time to cook dinner. We miss your quirky habits like constantly walking around the sofa. We miss your cute little face, your bright eyes, your big ears and your constantly wagging tail. We miss your begging. We would give anything to have all that back again, but we would not have you suffer more. You died at home. We just could not bring ourselves to take you to a clinic for a final injection. I hope we made the right decision. Please forgive us if it was the wrong thing to do.
I pray that there is a heaven and you are happy. You deserve nothing less.
Love Always,
| Marco Polo |
| 11, Feb 2007 |
| Pat & Harry Bennett |