For My Angel

This is the time of year that I can't help but think about angels. It was four years ago this week that I lost my Chocolate Lab, Angel. The day before she died was the first day she had not enthusiastically greeted me at the door, and while I thought it was unusual, even then she showed no signs of what was going on inside. By the next afternoon she was gone, too soon, too suddenly, and leaving my poor children with a mother who would burst into tears every time she came through the kitchen door without that lovely dog to greet her.

She was my best friend. She was born on my birthday. My sister, with whom I also share a birthday, made the origami angel dog after Angel died, and it sits in a place of honor on my desk, just above my computer. Very few days go by that I don't think of Angel still. She was the puppy for my little girls, she was the listener who never tired of me, even through my divorce. She helped cushion the transition to our new house, and she had an unlimited capacity for snuggling. She was ready to jump in and enjoy swimming in the cellar the first time it flooded, the same way she was ready to jump into the ocean on the 4th of July (and on New Year's Day). She was the the best friend our bunny could have ever hoped for (even if she did ocassionaly swipe his carrot). She made us feel safe.

Angel was partial to the Poor Farm Fields, another great off-leash area in Cape Elizabeth. She would fetch a ball, or preferably a soft frisbee, until my arm just couldn't fling it any more. She allowed us to dress her up in ridiculous costumes (the jester's collar pictured here was nothing compared to most Halloweens in her lifetime).

So today, here's to all the great dogs who have shared our lives and left us a little heart-broken. The best thing they've taught us is to enjoy their company, because it makes our lives better every day that we do.