by Patrick McMillan
My Brook was twelve years old when I had to put her down. She developed cancer in her jaw. As Brook's tumor grew she never let her illness stand in her way to show us her love everyday. Holding her in my arms as the vet inserted the needle into her leg, the needle that would end her time with me was the HARDEST thing I EVER had to do. I stroked her head as she looked at me wondering "dad what is going on here, I want to be outside playing or back home curled up in fromt of a blazing fire." I know I was doing the right thing because I loved her that much I was willing to let her go. As her body grew limp I kissed her face as my warm tears fell onto her. I had her remains cremated and she now sits in my BEST cookie jar with her red collar attached on top. I can't bury her and I never will. I need to know Brook is with me forever. Time to time I pick up her collar and nuzzle it to my face and I can still smell her scent on it. I miss my "ole Brooker" and I wish everyday I had JUST one more day......I hope she waits for me at the rainbow bridge. What a reunion it will be! I love you Brook.
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