Mom is heartbroken. Tears come to her eyes as I snuggle close and give her slurps. She holds me close and whispers, “I miss him.”
I remember meeting him on a trip to Minnesota for a family reunion. He always greeted me with a big smile and happy praises, marveling at how good I am at my service dog job, giving me lots of-pets. I loved my Mom’s dad, Grandpa David and gave him many dog kisses in return, which he didn’t mind one bit. I loved snuggling with him on the old leather couch.
Identifying dog lovers can be done with a single sniff. They usually talk in sweet tones and call you “good boy.” Sometimes they have a treat to give you too.
Grandpa David was a dog lover. He went to Heaven on Christmas Day. Mom had been praying for him to get home from the hospital by Christmas and I guess God had other plans. She has since told me she needs to be more specific in her prayer requests to God.
Dog is GOD spelled backwards. Since my Mom is sad, I want to be like God and give her comfort. I’m constantly at her side, doing my service dog job. But when I look into her eyes and beg for attention, she cheers up. I guess I’m doing my other dog-job; one I didn’t have to train for. One that God gave me to do by nature.
I may not understand Mom’s tears, but I know she needs me, and I am there for her.
If you want to read about Grandpa David, Mom wrote this about him: