You were brought to me abandoned, flea ridden and bedraggled. Mom didn't want me to have you, but I begged and begged until she gave in. When I went away to college, you pined on my bed until I got a place that would let me have you with me. You saved my life one dark, foggy night on the road to State College when you climbed into my lap and wailed at the top of your little lungs. I would have gone over the edge of that mountain if you hadn't jolted me awake. When you got sick, I did everything I could to save you. I'm still mad at the vet who said you were too young for liver troubles. When I had to make the awful choice, I knew it was the only thing left for me to do. I miss you still. You're always with me. Your rose bush blooms every spring.