by Albert Valente
She was Tippie. One dog, but one with many names. Lady Tippie of North Wallingford, a purebred Springer Spaniel with a beautiful smile and big brown eyes. She was the Tip dog. Tippie-tip. Tipper. Terrible Tippie. Tieeep! The Tipster. Tippie toes. She was a bird dog that loved to chase chipmonks. The monk-a-dog. The dog-a-monk. The monker. The pup-a-monk. The monk-a-monk. The Monk-a-ty-monk dog. The baby-monk. Bless her heart. Bless her soul. We went for walks every day for twelve long and wonderful years. Rain and snow. Sunshine and fog. She loved it all. I put her to sleep today because her liver failed. She was so brave, and brave to the last. I will never forget her. Her ashes will be always be on my mantle. When she was a pup I taped her crying and barking for fully ten minutes when she greeted me coming home after a long day. How can I ever forget her. Now the angels have taken Tippie for a walk up the Rainbow Bridge. God bless her. She is looking down on me now, barking and urging me to go on without her. Good by Tippie! Good-by you old monker!!