"All Good Dogs Go To Heaven"

As I have talked a lot before, I love animals. I don't know why because my parents really never let us have any. I think we had a couple of dogs, maybe two cats and my brothers had a turtle but other than that we didn't have many pets. When I was a junior in high school I found a puppy that needed a home. I told my parents that if we didn't take it they were going to take her to the pound, (that wasn't exactly true) but it worked. I brought my dog home and she loved me. I took her everywhere with me. The problem was she hated everyone else. She would tolerate my Mom but would bark at anyone else who would get near me. She was very protective. Her name was Putsey. When I went to my reunion in May we were all talking about the past and of course my friends had to bring up my darling little dog. She even bit one of my best friends when she came in my house. Of course Cynda had to show me the scar on her hand from 1970. When I got married my dog came with me. If Rich would have known that, I am sure he would have called the wedding off because he hated my dog, and she hated him. She always slept on my bed so when we got married of course she was right there. If Rich would roll over and touch her she would bite him. I can't tell you how many fights we had over that da$# dog, and how many times he threw her off the bed. Rich didn't really try to get her to like him either. One of the things he would do was throw his keys at her when he walked in the door after work, because she would bark at him. She was just protecting the house, but he didn't see it that way. Anyway, in 1986 my little dog wasn't doing well. She was blind and would sleep all day long. I went into the hospital to have gallbladder surgery so Rich told me that he was going to do the humane thing and have her put to sleep. I told him that if my dog was dead when I got out of the hospital I would not be coming home. So he took my dog over to my parents in Scottsdale and then went camping with the kids while I recovered. I remember getting a call from my Mom while I was still in the hospital telling me that my dog had suffered a stroke and she was going to take her to the vet that afternoon. Well, before they could get her to the vet she passed away under the chair in the den where my Dad was sitting. I have probably had ten dogs since then but no one will ever take the place of that little dog. Three weeks ago when we had to put our third golden retriever to sleep I decided that I am too old to have anymore dogs. It is just too sad when they get old and sick and I'm too tired to do it anymore. Spencer brought his new little puppy with him from Colorado. I had forgotten how much work they are and what a mess they make. Hopefully they will be taking Trixie home with them in a couple of weeks. I know Rich won't agree with me but "all good dogs go to heaven" and I think Putsey was a good dog for me.