My dog died today. He was 13 years old, my son and I got him from the pound when he wasn't quite 2 years old and he was a handfull! We named him Allegro because it sounded similar to the name he had been given but didn't mean black in another language.
Over the years things have changed in my life. When we got Allegro I had just gotten divorced and my son was in high school. Then I met a man and he moved in with us, pretty soon my son went away to college, several years later, Hans the man I was living with passed away, soon after that my son got married to a wonderful woman and just a few weeks ago they told me I was going to be a grandma.
Through all of that Allegro was there. During my "empty nest" time and the long lonely nights after Hans passed he was there, loving and accepting and wanting nothing but a little food and little fun and a treat or two.
I'll miss the click of his nails on the wood floors and the feeling of a wet nose working it's way under my hand looking for some attention.
Sure I tripped over him, cussed at him, cleaned up after his accidents ( that I think sometimes were on purpose). I hated the black dog hair that was everywhere no matter how many times I ran the vacuum but I loved him. He was my friend and my protector and the one I could tell everything to without worrying what he would think of me.
So here's to you doggie, thank you for making my life easier in the hard times and even more fun in the good times.
