by Cyndy / your mom Cyndy

Boston you were the cutest little Boston Terrier/Cairn mix when

I first got you 11 years ago.

You were so full of life; loved chasing your ball around the yard;

loved chasing your sister around the yard; loved going for runs with

me in the morning.

When did it all change? Why did it change?

Last summer I noticed you were vomiting more and more

but I just thought you ate grass and were getting sick that way.

When I noticed a significant weight loss I took you to the vet.

She did lots of tests and it cost a lot of money but I wanted them to

find out what was wrong. They couldn’t find anything ;

but assumed you had IBD and gave you medicines and diet changes.

It worked a bit for a little while but the vomiting came back.

The only way was surgery and I didn’t want to put you through that

so we changed medicines and hoped and prayed.

By your 11th birthday on Dec. 11

I knew in my heart nothing would help you.

I prayed to Jesus daily to heal you.

On Feb. 4 I took you to a different vet and he said you

only had a little while to live; didn’t even vaccinate you and

changed his pills.

He died at home on Valentine’s Day.

My heart and world shattered; it hurts so much I can hardly stand it.

I cry and cry for you baby.

I buried you in our yard the next day complete with a “tombstone”

and cross so I can look out over you every day I live.

I didn’t want to give you to a pet cemetery or cremation service.

I wanted you to be with me.

I cry hysterically every time I pass your grave

but I know that Jesus is looking out for you now.

Baby you don’t have to suffer anymore.

I remember your bad days and I thought about letting the vet

take you out of your misery but you never complained

and in a day or so seemed better.

Then I was relieved I didn’t do it.

You brought me so much joy and happiness and I know you

loved me too. Now I don’t have you following me all over the house

or licking my leg or face or greeting me at the door.

Your sister is around still but she grieves also. It’s not the same.

You were a mere skeleton when you left us.

All day long you were in and out of a coma-like state

barely breathing. But yet you seemed at peace.

You accepted your fate.

When I lay down by you and cried and called to you and was

praying over you you had the strength to pick up your head

and look at me with your beautiful brown eyes and

looked deeply into mine.

You seemed to say it was all right; that he loved us all dearly;

and he was going to go now in peace; never to be in pain again.

My precious Boston I love you so and always will.

We will get another dog I know but no one could ever replace

you dear.