We found Squeak by the side of a
little country road one Sunday morning in obvious distress. My now 24-year old daughter was but a
pre-schooler then. It turned out that Squeak
had been shot and the bullet had entered his left jaw and exited on the right
side of his throat. He was pretty
messed-up, but we paid the vet to have him put back together as best he could
be. That was the first of several
surgeries, and the poor little guy always looked a bit funny because his jaw
didn’t align properly. Dogs are amazing,
though, in their ability to live in the present, and squeak never thought of
himself as sub-par. That was lesson #1
squeak taught me.
Squeak was Kim’s dog (my wife); he
loved her and tolerated me but I loved the little guy all the same. As is often the case with small-breeds,
squeaker had his idiosyncrasies, seemed to always bark at inappropriate times,
and was generally a pain in the kiester, but I loved the little guy all the same. That’s the second thing Squeak taught me; how
to love like God does. I can soooo see
God shaking his head at me and mumbling something about how he wishes my
behavior was better, but oh how he loves me.
Daughter two is now about the age
daughter one was when we brought squeak home; she and the little man were great
buds. Callie, Kim and I all feel the sting
of loss and the emptiness of our home.
Squeak you were truly loved in your time on earth, and you are missed.