by lily frost

Created on: July 30, 2011

Her name was Sweetpee.

She was my first Yorkie.

Her age was barely in year three.

She was the dearest pet, I ever had.

You see, I really wanted to call her Morkie.

She hated that name, just a tad.

I saw who she really was,

so tiny in that teacup.

Her baby fur had been like peach fuzz.

Her home coming was a such a buzz.

She cuddled every single night.

She was lost within my bed covers.

In a dog's life, we were like lovers.

We were one and one another.

Then that terrible day came, when I saw she had some fleas.

They made her so very weak and pale.

I definitely am sad to tell this tale.

I gave her a warm flea bath.

I didn't do the math.

My good friend died that night,

snuggled in the arms that held her tight.

I innocently found out just too late,

that my tiny angel of glee was too delicate, for goodness sake.

She sadly left me and this earth.

My tears did absolutely no good.

I had really made a horrible mistake.

You see, I could barely forgive.

I felt I lost all my worth.

She knows though, that I have a special place inside my beating heart.

I also know that she watches over her double Coffee, and of course, me too!

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