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.”
“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.)
Six months passed. Daisy was still alive. Growing stronger. The cancer was still there, we knew that. But she was living. Playing. Being loved.
My brother died month seven. I was wrecked. Hadn’t visited Tom and Madison in two weeks. When I finally went back, Madison was sitting on the porch with Daisy, both wearing matching bandanas.
“We were worried,” Madison said. “Daisy missed you.”
“Sorry, kiddo. My brother went to heaven.”
Madison nodded solemnly. “Like Mommy. Is he a real angel now? Not a motorcycle angel but a heaven angel?”
“Good. Mommy needs friends. Do you want to see what Daisy learned?”Continue reading…
