She wandered into our lives one hot day, stray, living in the alleys on garbage and what water she could find. She was skinny, her ribs looked like a picket fence. Not far from death at a puppy's age until God put us together is what I believe. She was good with my old mother, always careful and caring with mom.
Years passed and she, like all of us, aged. Except she did it in dog years so she turned 91 last May. Well, she hung in there; she did have a lot of heart but that is not sufficient to withstand the ravages of time. Mostly blind, losing control of her back legs, other effects of age, life was not good for her anymore (although she would not admit it). I believe she would drag herself to us if that is what it took. She was a proud dog, fastidiously clean and never complained about anything we did with her. Late with her supper, put her out in the rain or snow, go away and leave her to the care of friends, the vet for shots, whatever.
She went with us to the vet's not fearing or nervous. Perhaps she had an inkling of what was there for her or probably she simply trusted us that we would do our best for her. Complete trust.
You want a definition of unconditional love? Get a dog, you will know.
Man’s Best Friend
"Gentlemen of the jury, a man's dog stands by him in prosperity and poverty, in health and sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow, and the snow drives fiercely, if only he can be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer; he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens."
Her little brother, Biscuit. The missus wanted to call him Muffin but I said, uh uh, this's a boy dog, so Biscuit it was. He's gonna miss Jackie just like we do.
Rest well, my friend. I'll see you up on the bridge.
When a dog dies that has been especially close to someone here, that dog goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the dogs who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The dogs are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your dog, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together . . .