When we got her she weighed maybe four pounds. She was a white furry ball with furry little feet, trying to scramble up the side of a cardboard box in the front floorboard of the car. She was wiggling and making squeaky puppy noises. She fit in my hands and I carried her into the house on my shoulder like she was a baby. It was how she liked us to carry her all her life.

What I remember today:
Three days after we got her, I brought my boyfriend home after track practice to see her. It's the only time I ever heard him squeal. Once for, oh how cute. And then for she's got poop all over her and now it's all over me.

When I came home from college for visits, she'd get in my suitcase when it was time for me to go back.

Her favorite thing when I came home to visit was to sleep in the bed with me. It was like a special treat for her, and she'd snuggle up with her warm doggie smell as close as she could get. It was sad for both of us when she got too old to do that anymore.

When she was a puppy she'd get off her leash sometimes and RUN through the backyards of all the neighbors while we'd try to catch her. She thought it was a game. When my folks moved to the Golf Course, she'd run and run down through the fairway out back. And at least once a month my mom would wake to an angry golfer out on the tee shouting about a dog that pooped out there. It may or may not have been ours.

She liked to sit quietly on the porch with ym grandparents and snuggle in her bed in the TV room.

For the past few months she couldn't see, couldn't hear and spent most of her days wandering in circles. She'd step in the water bowl and track water all over the house. She had seizures. Yesterday she couldn't walk, but was trying to drag herself around.

So the last thing she remembers is my mom holding her and telling her stories. She's under a rosebush on the hill, overlooking her fairway and the golf tee. She was a good dog. I miss her.