Sandy died on April 18th 1998 at the age of fifteen years old. We got Sandy when she was two years old and when I was five years old. We grew up together and I cannot remember a time when Sandy wasn't in my life. She came everywhere with me and slept with me every night in my bed. I dressed her up in my favorite outfit and she was a regular each year when we went treak or treating with a costume and everything. When I got my first camera I took every single picture of her that I could and my dad used to always say that this was the most photographed dog ever. She was the first thing that I saw in the morning and the last thing that I would see before I went to bed. I remember when Sandy would run away how scared I would be that I would never see her again and that she was gone forever. I always knew this day would come, that she wouldn't be returning and it is so hard to say goodbye. I came home from school one day and my father had taken her to the vet because she had become very weak and couldn't walk anymore. That Monday morning she got really sick after I left for classes and my father was the brave one who saw her in her final moments. I think of Sandy every day and sometimes when I open the door after I come home from school I wonder where she is and then I remember that she is not with us anymore. I remember all the walks that we went on and all the late night cookies that we ate together in the middle of the night and I miss her so much. I miss her so much. This poem brings me comfort in knowing that she is alright and safe. I miss you so much Sandy The Little Dog Angel High up in the courts of heaven today A little dog angel waits; With the other angels he will not play, But he sits alone at the gates. For I know my master will come, says he, And when he comes he will call for me. The other angels pass him by As they hurry towards the throne, And he watches them with a wistful eye As he sits at the gates alone. But I know if I just wait patiently That someday my master will call for me. And his master, down on the earth below, As he sits in his easy chair, Forgets sometimes, and whispers low To the dog, who is not there. And the little dog angel cocks his ears, And dreams that his master's voice he hears. And when at last his master waits Outside in the dark and cold, For the hand of death to open the door, That leads to those courts of gold, He will hear a sound through the gathering dark, A little dog angel's bark. Author Unknown