I remember bringing you home. You were so small and cuddly with your tiny paws and soft fur. You bounced around the room with your eyes flashing and your ears flopping. Once in awhile, you’d let out a 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 but I’ll do it again as soon as your’re not watching.
As you became older, you protected me by looking out he window and barking at everyone who walked or drove by.
When I had a tough day at home or work, you would be waiting for me with your tail wagging, just to say, “It will be okay, welcome home and I missed you.” When I sat down to read the paper or watch TV, you would lay down by my feet, looking for attention. You never asked for anything more than to have me pat your head.
As you became older, you moved around more slowly. Then one day, old age finally took its toll, and you couldn’t stand on those wobbly old legs anymore.
I sat down and patted you lying there, trying to make you young again. You just looked up at me as if to say you had to ask me to do one last favor.
With tears in my eyes, I drove you one last time to the vet. One last time you were lying next to me. For some strange reason, 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 up as if to say, “Thank you for taking care of me.” I thought,
“No– thank YOU for taking care of me.”