Muffin

She died 17 years ago today, and I still miss her every day. Most nights she comes back in dreams and comforts me. What a pal and companion. Lucky me. And during the day while eating I think, damn it, if you were here I'd save the remaining crumbs for your snout just like I always did.

Man, she loved the sound of the Milkbone box rattling, and morphed from a Cocker Spaniel to a 'Springer' Spaniel whenever anyone asked her if she wanted to go for a walk. She'd get so excited she'd start peeing even before I'd get the leash hooked to her collar. Then, the entire time outdoors her nose would be glued to the grass searching for...only she knew. And she would tug me mightily along as though we were shooting the chariot race scene in Ben Hur.

And she knew more about life than me. Probably from all that homework of mine she ate. And no, none of that roll over and play dead or shake paws or speak! crap. She was too much of a lady (except the uncontrollable peeing), and knew just when to make herself scarce when I had a fit, or when to settle her head upon my lap when I took a melancholy dive. I take more of those dives now than ever before, so I keep that 8 x 10 framed photo of her on my bed stand so she's the last thing I see before drifting away.

I miss you, little girl.