by cynthia maue
if i live to be one hundred, i will never forget that small ball of fur he was when we met. so we took him home and then named him ruff we bought him some toys and more puppy stuff. his smallness betrayed his big loyal heart. he wouldn't do tricks, but-boy was he smart! we never left home and not took him along. if he wasn't with us, something felt wrong. like three musketeers, we stood by one another. much more than a dog, he was child, friend and brother. if i live to one hundred, i'll never erase the sorrow that hid in my young sons' face. for thier time together, they were equals, no doubt. it was always my role to seem stern and be stout. but he crossed the threshold that made him a man to help ruff through his passing, he took a calm stand. i know that his heart trembled and broke. but, he gave us all strength in the words that he spoke. as he bent down to kiss his best friend good-bye, he held back his tears; refusing to cry. at least not until he knew ruff couldn't hear. he lent ruff his courage to face death with no fear. thirteen fast years just weren't enough. if we live to one thousand, we'll always miss ruff. no four legged creature was finer than he. it's strange that he taught us how better to be. forever in heaven, now free of all pain; we take comfort in that, 'til we're with him again.