Upon bringing Sadie home for the first time, one of the first things I remember was her staring in awe at those things called stairs. She was afraid of them for the first couple of weeks before she worked up to climbing them. She slowly and cautiously made her away up, but only made it half way down before she started whimpering and gave me that "I need you" look.
For the first couple of years of her life, Sadie often peed out of excitement whenever I came home. Once when I opened the door, she came running from the other side of the house to greet me. I still remember, after her leaping up to greet me, that perfectly straight line of urine on the wooden floor.
Sadie did not like it when I was gone, even for short periods. As a puppy, she whined and cried when I went to get the mail and gave me the biggest welcome when I returned no more than a minute later. She became better as she grew older, knowing I was eventually going to return, but always preferred my being where she could keep an eye on me.
When the neighbor dog, a large golden retriever named Lexi, came over to play with her, I gave them each a milk bone--Sadie a small one, and Lexi a large one. After a few minutes, I noticed Sadie was not in the area. I found her in the upstairs bathroom, gnawing on the large bone. She had apparently taken it out of Lexi's mouth, and, knowing she was no supposed to do that, ran to the farthest point in the house from the kitchen. I could not be angry with her after looking at those beautiful brown eyes. And yes--I gave Lexi another milk bone.
Fly high, Sweet Sadie. I hope you and Lizzie have found each other over the bridge. I know it was your time, but I am still shedding tears. You made my life better and you are forever a part of me. I love you for eternity.