I said goodbye to my friend today. I know he was just a dog, but for twelve years he has been with us, part of our family. Going every where we went. Even a long trip to Germany and back. He didn’t even seem mad when he had to ride in the cargo hold, as long as he could be with us, he was happy.
Dinner didn’t turn out right tonight. How could it when I’ve had a dog under my feet whenever I cooked for the last 12 years?
Sitting at the computer doesn’t seem right either. I’m suppose to have a dog sitting on one of my feet.
Who am I going to yell at tonight as I try to fall asleep, for making to much noise as they try to get comfortable by scratching up a towel, or my shirt thrown on the floor??
For twelve years the first thing I do in the morning is let the dog out. The last thing I do at night is let the dog out and than back in.
There won’t be anyone who will make me laugh when I forget to feed them, and reminding me of this by planting themselves in front of the food bowl and staring really hard at it, as if food will magically appear.
Who is going to howl when I try to sing?
We’ll miss you Mickey-Mutt.
We'll always Love and Miss you Mickey,
|6, May 2003|