Madison was gentle. Careful. Sat beside Daisy and read her stories. Fed her peanut butter from a spoon. Never left her side.
“Thank you, Mr. Biker Angel,” she said.
“Thank you, Mr. Bear Angel.”
Close enough.
I started stopping by weekly. Bringing Daisy’s medicine. Dog food. Groceries that I’d claim were “extras” from my shopping. Madison’s dad, Tom, was proud but not stupid. He knew what I was doing.
“I’m going to pay you back.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“My brother’s dying. Cancer. I can’t save him. But I could save Daisy. Sometimes you save what you can.”
Madison would run out when she heard my Harley. “Mr. Bear Angel! Daisy walked all the way to the corner today! Daisy ate all her breakfast! Daisy played with Duck!” (Duck was the stuffed toy.)Continue reading…
