by Rebecca Breitel
My Little Mouser, by Rebecca Breitel 4/25/04
When he slept with me every morning he looked like a newly hatched chicken; bald and wrinkly and helpless. I would have to watch to make sure that Chris didn't roll over on him.
He turned our bed into a sandbox every day.
To some he looked like a 90 yr old man; wrinkly withered and handicapped. Most would not even want to touch him. He looked so frail.
At times he looked like a little lamb-y, especially when he had to use all his might and energy to run up the stairs. His poodle haircut was very fashionable.
We called him endearing names like Dumb-Dumb and my mom called him Wobbles and Bobble-Head.
The dentist had previously removed all his rotting teeth so he had to gum his food. He would peck at it and compact it back into the bowl so I would have to scrape it back into a pile for him. We ate breakfast together in the mornings and had our routine every day.
I would have to wipe his face and wash his feet every morning like a baby.
He was only 7 but required 2 pills and two shots of insulin daily. I never minded and always took care of him.
He was always happy and never cried or complained about anything.
Mouser was the cutest and most lovable little thing you have ever seen. He had the sweetest face ever.
He never suffered and never stopped loving.
He was my little shadow and totally dependent on me.
Now he will be with his sister Max forever.
They will wait for me at Rainbow Bridge.
~Rebecca Breitel