When I was a child, I had a dog (a beagle mix?) She was brown & white with black patches around the eyes. We lived in an older home that had a large open front porch. We found her, as a puppy, curled up asleep one morning beside the front door... (even though the next door neighbors had a partially enclosed front porch with a couch on it.) No one in the neighborhood knew anything about her. So we kept her & I named her Sandy. She slept on my bed at night.

I don't recall how long I had had her when suddenly she disappeared one day. (Back then, dogs ran loose in the neighborhoods.) She must have been gone for at least a week or two... maybe more. One morning I was still in bed. (My bedroom was upstairs.) I heard my father's voice saying something like: "Go ahead... go on up..." A few seconds later Sandy came bounding up the stairs & jumped up on my bed! It was a happy day!

Years later, we had moved out into the country. As Sandy had aged she had developed a spot on one side where no hair grew. People didn't take pets to the vet the way they do today... plus we were poor... vet bills were something to be avoided. (As far as that goes, doctor & dentist bills were something to be avoided.) I don't recall why, but at some point my parents decided to break down & take Sandy to a vet. It was a warm sunny day. As we were getting ready to leave, I went out the back door to get Sandy. She was laying beside the house on one side in the sun... dead.... We buried her somewhere out in the "back 40". The Skeezyks does not cry... but he's crying as he writes this...