For Kelly: 17 September 1996-18 September 2007

This morning, at 0104, the morning after her eleventh birthday, my puppy Kelly died. After getting a clean bill of health from the vet after her surgery, she died. She was with her Mommy, who is the best Mommy Kelly could ever have, for her last day, and I know she was happy on her birthday. She passed in her sleep, quietly, loved.

My baby is dead; my little puppy, who always took up tow-thirds of any bed she shared, is dead.

She loved to swim, but hated baths, or walking in puddles. She would chase snowflakes.


She loved squirrels; one time she caught one, and she licked it. I could hear the other squirrels teasing him, “Man, your mom’s a real bitch!” I saw a dead squirrel on the way home last night. Kelly has someone to chase, and, possibly, bathe.

Kelly-belly; Cowbell; The Princess; Kell, Huntress of the Wood; Kelly-puppy; The Tail that Wrecked Hartford; The Tongue of a Giant.

I know that eleven is a long time to have a dog. But for a dog like Kelly, it is not enough, nowhere even near enough.

I don’t think God knows what he’s in for, with both Kelly and Fritz up there with Him.




I want my puppy back.

-Zeepdoggie