Oh Mommie, I miss you immensely. All the happy years we shared together. You gave me devotion. You trained me to give you ultimate care.
I met you a day after Christmas. My son (now departed) brought you to a family affair. You sat under a chair, all fluffy and black.
Your owner couldn’t keep you, you see. They knew you’d get love and care. That was in 2013.
You turned my heart into mush with your playful ways: with your toys, you in the window barking at the trash truck noise, chasing the leaves down to the drain – and how you loved to play in the rain!
You were so cute when we’d feed the birds. They would follow us, and you’d turn and shoo them away. The squirrels would run up the tree because: “Here comes Trixie!”
You loved pizza. And once you ate my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
You were extremely protective over Ms Helen – no one could come near, not even her own daughter – without your consent. You were at her side until she died. You were so gentle and sensitive. You became a comfort pet at a nursing home, and many people gave you a pat.
As age grew upon you, sicknesses came we could not prevent. A splenectomy, diabetes, and kidney disease. But you were a trouper through it all, and I was your nurse. I was determined to save you at any cost.
I prayed each day for God to let you stay so we could be together another day. We made our bucket list and carried it through.
Trees were planted for you. If love could have saved you, you’d be here today. Know the happy life you gave me can never be replaced. It’s lonely without you. In my heart and memory, you will live forever.
Remain forever and a day, I’ll love you – especially when it rains.
