Buster...a year gone.

March 15th, a year has already passed. Had there been an indication something sad would happen, we would have made sure Carlee was with us. In his last earthly hug, I whispered in his ear. 'You take a nap and after supper we'll go for a walk. It's okay. We love you.' So. Many. Tears. Best boy.

In this year, Carlee has stopped to sniff other dogs. She has stood up on her back feet to see dogs held in arms. 'She has lost her brother and is looking.' All these years, she hasn't wanted to be dog friends with anyone. But she looks for Buster at every turn. I catch myself doing the same.

The first few months on our walks, a Westie would cross our path. Buster was near. He was approximately four years old when I picked him up in a foot of snow and placed him in a warm vehicle, on a new fleece blanket. I stopped at the cemetery and told the folks, ''I got him.' They already new. And we headed home.  With much love to you Buster, Mom and Carlee

Just fits.