Sandy by Melissa Bagley / Momma

I moved out of that dinky apt. into our first house. And we had not a stick of furniture in it either, but a bed and a table. Our T.V. was on the floor. But it was ours. The first thing we did was get a dog. The first try at dogs was not great. They ran away to the neighbors’ chickens. I tried again. I ended up with Sandy. It was to be a love that went on
for almost fourteen years.

For all those years she slept on my bed at night. She was laying beside me when I collapsed on the floor with toxemia. She bit her first person when she thought I was in danger. She could sound like a roaring lion with real teeth if anyone came into our house and got near our babies. I keep children for a living. But Sandy adopted every one. She loved cats, rabbits, and baby anythings. Mostly she just loved us.

She waited for me outside the bathroom door at night before I went to bed. She danced for a weenie or a baloney. My son Michael would come home from work and she would start her dance. She knew he’d give in and feed her. Sandy understood almost every word we said.

She died of cancer this year. But the things she did for us will live with us for as long as we live. If I could only be like Sandy,
I’d be that much closer to God.


I love you, Sandy,
Melissa Bagley