“Madison made you something.”
She handed me a drawing. Me on my motorcycle with wings. Daisy with wings. Her mom and my brother in the clouds. At the bottom, in purple crayon: “Thank you for being our angel. Love Madison and Daisy.”
“Mr. Bear Angel? Will Daisy go to heaven?”
“Everything good goes to heaven.”
“Will you take care of her until I get there? When I’m very very old?”
“Promise.”
One year. Daisy made it one year. The vet couldn’t believe it. “Love,” Amy said. “It’s always love that makes the difference.”
When Daisy started declining, we all knew. She stopped eating. Stopped playing with Duck. But she still wagged when Madison came home from school.Continue reading…
