Article September 16, 2002 Issue

In His hands

By Gwendolyn Joy Forest

Bobbie was a puppy when I was born, so we grew up together. I thought she would always be around. Sometimes I didn't even think about her. Sometimes I'd pet her and talk to her, and sometimes I didn't. I didn't even notice when her soft black fur had grown white hairs around her face. I didn't realize she was slowing down. Bobbie was Bobbie, and that's just how it was.

Until, one day, she wasn't there anymore.

Suddenly there was a big empty place in my life where Bobbie had always been. At first I cried. I'd wake up in the mornings and think Bobbie was still waiting for me in the kitchen for her breakfast. Then I'd remember she wasn't going to be around, and I would miss her. When I'd see another dog's face sticking out of a car window, I would remember how Bobbie loved to ride in the car and sniff the air as we drove. And I'd be sad.

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