by Nina Lang
Misty was always a good dog. She was as well my moms best friend. She was a hunting dog, and loved to run and play. But later on in her life that firey, jumpy, enthusiastic, personality died with a part of our hearts. She had some sort of illness, and since I was six or seven at the time, I didn't quie understand, how or why she got it. All I knew was that my joyious, English Springer Spaniel puppy was dying, slowly and painfully. She wasn't eating, and when she had to go to the bathroom, my daddy had to carry her outside. She was always lazy but I didn't mind. Deep down in my heart I knew that she was sick, whether or not I wanted to accept that fact. She gaurded and protected me. She was loyal, friendly, and enerjetic. The three best words to describe a good dog. On December 24, 1997, Misty refused to eat her favorite food, my Italian grandmother's pasta w/ sauce. That scared us all. I didn't want her to die, but I knew God was calling her home. She was allowed to spend her last Christmas with us. On December 26, 1997 Misty, my best friend at the time, died, leaving behind, me, mommy, daddy, erin, and her son, Bison. All I remember about her passing is I woke up that morning and asked where she was. My daddy said she died and he took her to the vet. Later on in my life I found out a different story. I was told that Misty, had been put to sleep, w/o a family discussion. It was decided among my parents, nor me or my sister were included. I wish I was. We have a welcome mat with Misty's picture on it, I look at it everyday. I have a strong feeling that Misty is waiting for her son Bison to come home to her. And until the day we cross the Rainbow bridge together, they will play happily. I think it is only fair for my mom to cross w/ them b/c they were her TRUE best friends. They were an engagment present from my Daddy. In my eyes Misty gave our family the worst Christmas gift ever, but now I realize it was for the best.

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