All Dogs Go To Heaven
By Ronni P.
One of the saddest times in my life happened in the summer of 2003. We were just finishing visiting some family in Nebraska and were heading back home to Michigan. Our 13-year-old Keshond dog, Buzzie, suddenly began to have trouble breathing.
We were scared for him, so we turned back around and went back to my grandmaís house. My parents immediately left us kids there and rushed to the vet with Buzzie.
It was very quiet at the house, as we were all afraid for Buzzie. I wondered what it would be like without him. It made me shudder just to think about it.
An hour or so later, my parents came in dragging their feet in sadness. My grandma asked them what was wrong. They carefully explained that Buzzie wasnít with us anymore. Being only eight years old, I asked them what they meant.
My dad tried again to explain what they were talking about. He said that Buzzie was in so much pain that they had no choice but to put him to sleep. I began to cry uncontrollably. Soon, everyone was crying with me, even my grandma. We had all loved him dearly and missed him now that he was gone. I donít think any of us got much sleep that night. We were all too devastated.
The next morning, we set off with no Buzzie. I was especially sad because he was my travel pillow and it seemed extra empty in the big backseat without him there. His pillow that he slept on still had some of his long, curly fur clinging to the case. That made me even sadder than I already was.
The thirteen-hour drive back to Michigan seemed so much longer without he fluffy dog resting his head on my knee. I finally fell asleep imagining that the furry dog was right there beside me. When we finally reached our house, it was near 10:00 at night. We all crawled sadly into bed.
Over the next few weeks, it seemed extra quiet in our house without a dog roaming the hallways and rooms. In the second or third week of silence, my parents decide to get a new dog.
After a few days of checking the newspapers for advertisements about puppies, we found a place to buy Golden Retrievers. It was about an hour drive from our house to Yale to find our new pet.
The next weekend, we drove to Yale to collect our new dog. It took us about an hour to decide. We chose a little boy dog and named him Hogan after the wrestler, Hulk Hogan.
He could never totally replace the dog that was with me for the first part of my life, but he is a nice permanent substitute. He has taught us that we need to move on in our lives, even when something bad happens.
Sometimes, after Hogan does something wrong, it seems as though Angel Buzzie communicates with him and tells him to be good.
I guess what Iím trying to say is that my family does miss Buzzie a lot, but Hogan does a very good job filling the empty places in our hearts!