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I remember when we brought you home, Milly. You were so tiny, you could fit in the palm of my hand. You slept in a little shoe box, snuggled into my hat. You always loved that hat... kept it with you for years.

I remember housebreaking you. It wasn't difficult, you were so smart, and all you ever seemed to want to do was make us happy, make us proud of you. When you WOULD have an accident, you would look so sad, so worried about our disappointment in you.... I think that's really when I realized I could relate to you.

You were always such a good dog, even when you were being bad. You'd manage to find any scrap of food we tried to hide in the kitchen, but you never seemed to figure out the pantry, a cupboard barely closed, and filled with food. You had some gross habits, but everyone has those. With you, there was always something about the bad behavior we could laugh at, like the toilet-paper confetti you always left around the house when we were gone too long, or the "present" of a diaper left right in the middle of the hallway.

As you got older, your energy seemed to lag, but that never stopped you from thinking you were a puppy. Even at thirteen years old, you still acted as if you were two. Running after toys, chasing the kids, even just wiggling your bottom at light-speed whenever someone came near you. Always happy, and still always looking for ways to please the people you loved.

It is still hard for me to imagine you gone. I remember when I left, you stayed by my door for days, waiting for me to emerge. Saying the word "treat" in any context always made your head nearly spin off your neck, and resulted in a hearty chomp and a whine combined with a foot stomp (or rather, paw stomp).

They say that pets resemble their owners, but I truly believe you have molded us to resemble you over the past decade. When you first came to us at six weeks old, I did not care about anything. I was convinced that no one cared about me. My background had convinced me that "unconditional love" did not exist, but you showed me otherwise. You showed me that I can be loved even when I am not lovable. You never turned your back on me, unless it was to get me to scratch your behind.

I can imagine you in Doggy Heaven, chasing kitties and squirrels to your heart's content. I know you're the best dog God has up there, and while I am sad you are no longer here with me, I can't think of a better being for you to bring joy to, which is exactly what I'm sure you're doing right now.

Forever Milly.
May 1, 1995 - August 24, 2008

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