It had to be one of the sweetest things I've ever seen. An elderly couple were out for their daily walk. Both used walkers that rolled easily on wheels. They would stop often to rest pointing out birds in the trees, marvelling at the young people gliding by on skate boards. Large dogs played like children in a dog park. They passed an ancient wishing well. The gentleman tossed a coin into it, saying something to his wife that had her laughing like a young girl.

Their pace was slow, but that was just fine with them. They had a very special cargo. In between the two walkers they had rigged a piece of soft material that had four holes in it. Into the four holes went the legs of their very senior Dachshund. The dog was old with back problems. With the sling under her belly she was able to join her owners on a nice unhurried walk. She sniffed everything her nose came in contact with. Folks stopped to chat, the dog was given her fair share of attention.

They came to a set of stairs. Putting the brakes on their walkers, they unhooked the sling, each took one side with their pet in it. Taking one step at time they finally got to the top. It was a long haul, they were both red faced and panting. Some young people had been watching, they immediately came forward, carried up the two walkers, helped get the doggy sling hooked up then away they went. The Dachshund broke into barking, the seniors laughed exchanged another kiss then away all three went.

I thought it was a perfect example of a family helping each other. In this fast paced world we live in, how wonderful to see something so simple as a happily married couple. Rather than leave their pet at home, they had worked out a way to exercise their dog while all three enjoyed the outdoors. I think we don't look at our seniors often enough. I was enchanted watching the love flow between all three.

It just wasn't meant to be. Teddy, the Japanese Chin who was living with me after being found as a stray, had gone though one serious problem after another. He was blind, then underwent an operation to remove a lump on his tummy. It was cancer, but the vet felt he had some good quality time left. I wanted to bring the little boy home, use his time left to allow him to enjoy being being someone's very much loved pet.

I brought him home. He was so happy, his tail wagging, snuffling around to find Miss Kitty, he gave a quick lick to Jasper. He found his bed, turned around 100 times then had a nap. I was thrilled with all of this. He had never shown any of this before. When he woke up, he barked. Another first! I lay on my belly on the floor, Teddy climbed up onto my back, chewed my hair, washed Miss. Kitty who joined him, and when Jasper climbed up, Teddy booted him off.

When it was meal time, he actually followed me out to the kitchen, sat on his bum and barked. He ate his meal with noisy enjoyment, chasing that dish all over the kitchen. The entire day passed like this. A day of wonders for me, as Teddy was having fun. He played with Jasper, had a tug of war with him over an old sock. If I left the room, he followed, sometimes bumping into my legs. When a friend came to visit, she was really shocked over the difference in the little dog.

At bedtime, Teddy asked up onto my bed. Jasper has his little spot, Teddy curled up next to him. Miss. Kitty joined the dogs. They were all in a bundle, I watched them for the longest time before falling asleep. Jasper woke me, and I knew immediately Teddy had died. Still curled in a circle, he looked at peace. I held him close and felt my heart breaking into pieces. I had wanted the wee boy to enjoy the time left to him. I never dreamed he would leave so soon. He had one day where life was sweet, if dogs could giggle he would have done that non stop. He played like a puppy, relished every bite of food, enjoyed the company of another dog and his friend the cat. He followed me around, nudging me with his nose to be picked up.

I took him into the country where pets are laid to rest. He was placed under a willow tree. It's a beautiful spot. I'm sure where he is now, he will have his sight back. The pain he suffered at the hands of uncaring humans will be forgotten, but I won't forget him. I'll think of how his last day was, happy, full of doggy fun and love. When my group of rescue helpers, laid him to rest, Jasper watched. After we placed our flowers and teddy bears on his grave, Jasper turned into a whirlwind. He ran around, leaping in the air, barking, racing, it looked as if he was playing with another dog. He would play bow, tear off, turn around and face something we couldn't see.

A wind came up, blowing through the branches of the willow tree. Jasper came to me, panting asking up. He licked my tears while we left the tiny grave. I do believe, that Teddy was taking his last playtime on earth. He'll join all the other dogs waiting for their humans. I am so very glad he had one day where life was good. He has his wings now, he earned them well.

Amber was a tiny apricot poodle. She was the child that Mrs. Haley never had. The dog had been close to the old lady's side for almost ten wonderful years. Her husband barely tolerated Amber. His one firm stipulation was that he better never, ever, hear that dog bark. Mrs. Haley trained Amber well. So well trained in fact that even walking in the park, she never barked at other dogs or the squirrels that badgered all the dogs. The dog was mute, so Mr. Haley had no reason to evict the poodle from the house. Amber sensed the importance of the rule, she never broke it.

The elderly couple enjoyed having company call. A few drinks, good conversation, tastefully prepared dinners with guests they knew well. Amber was always locked away in the library where she would watch anxiously for the door to open. She would have preferred being with her mistress, that was not allowed.

On a cold fall evening, Amber was asleep in her bed in the library. A dinner party was being held. The guests had had a few drinks too many. Someone opened the library door, allowing Amber to creep out to find her beloved person. The front door stood wide open, people coming and going. Perhaps her person was out there. The poodle calmly walked outside, looked around, not seeing Mrs. Haley, she returned to the house. The large door was shut. She waited while the wind grew strong, rain fell, she was shivering from cold and fear. When thunder suddenly boomed followed by a wicked flash of light, she ran. Across the lawn, down a road, over a busy highway, into an alley where it smelled so strange.

The rain pelted her until she stood dripping. She spotted a small building in a children's playground. It offered protection from the rain. Miserable, she curled into a ball, wanting her person to come and get her.

Sometimes during that long night, she heard her name called. Different voices, but she wasn't allowed to bark. She waited, expecting them to see her. She was colder than she had ever been, and more frightened than any small dog should be. A whimper couldn't be held back. She heard her name called by Mr. Haley. He had never spoken to her before. Amber wanted to go home. Gathering her courage she managed one short bark. It startled her. But Mr. Haley heard. He headed in her direction, calling, "Amber, Amber show me where you are, talk to me Amber." She barked again, while taking a few steps into the open where he could see her.

He saw the bedraggled little thing, picked her up, tucking her away inside his coat. He smelled strange to her, his hands were different. She gave his face many tiny kisses while he held her close. "How could I have been so stupid, as to insist that you never bark," he groaned. "I love my wife beyond words, she is heart sore without you Amber." When he reached his home, he hurried inside to the library where his wife was holding one of Amber's toys. Tears were streaming down her face, she had been so careful of her baby dog.

He husband sat beside her. He smiled. Amber poked her head out of his coat, saw her beloved person and gave a short happy yip! She was home, in the arms of her person. Mr. Haley was a hero to his wife. Even more so when he gruffly told her that he didn't really mind if the dog made a bit of noise now and then.

Things changed in the house. Amber found her voice. Mrs. Haley beamed at her husband, loving him even more. Mr. Haley learned that tiny happy dogs are amusing. Best of all, when company came, she was allowed to stay with her beloved person. Amber was taught a new trick. Speak! She used it well.

Tasha was a five year old Clumber Spaniel. She belonged to a recently divorced man. Tasha came into the couple's lives as a joyful puppy. She was the color of cream, with beautiful amber eyes. Her face was sweet, with the sort of look that had all dog lovers wanting to hug her. She proved to be an easy going young dog. When her family broke apart, she was heartsore.

She had bonded strongly to the mistress. After the marriage break up her mistress moved away leaving Tasha at home. Her owner was seldom at home. When he was there, he was preoccupied with work. He did hire a dog walker, but that wasn't the same as loving arms. Her coat grew lank, her appetite faltered, she was bored, lonely and became destructive.

Tasha chewed her way through some leather furniture, house plants, books, even ripping the drapes from a window then shredding them. Her owner grew impatient with her. She would eat something, then throw it up. He never knew what to expect when he opened the door at night. One day he brought a new lady home. The woman resented Tasha the moment she saw her. The dog was a mess, there was dog hair everywhere, she wanted Tasha gone.

Sadly, Tasha's life took a turn for the worse. Her owner's placed a higher value on a nice home, than on the dog. An ad was placed in the newspaper, you know the kind, "Free to Good Home." The first people who phoned, took her. They beat her, shut her in a small room, grew angry when she barked. They drove downtown with her in the car, opened the door and kicked her out. Let someone else deal with the dog.

Tasha walked the streets for weeks, then months. She approached humans, searching for kindness. She was a matted mess, smelled bad, people passed her by. The day came when her legs gave out from hunger and despair. She lay on the cold ground, giving up. Live had proved too hard to linger.

Teenagers returning home from a baseball game, found her laying on the sidewalk. They rushed her to the Fire Hall, a block away. One of the Fire Fighters worked over the dog until she responded. Everyone celebrated! Especially one young girl who's father had passed on. She claimed the dog then took her home where she fed her, brushed her coat until it gleamed. A strong bond grew between them. She changed Tasha's name, to Angel. Her friends scoffed at the name. What she said, silenced her everyone.

"My dad was a Fire Fighter. When we found the dog, she was in MY driveway. It was my dad's best friend who worked on my dog. He's retired, and never goes to the Fire Hall. That day he had an urge to drop in. He was the only one who had ever taken classes on emergency pet first aid. My dad had heart disease. He died in his car, in my driveway, one year to the day that we found the dog. When my dog came home, my mom almost fainted, as Angel has the same amber colored eyes that dad did."

The girl's tears ran down her cheeks, "Dad felt he was going to die, he promised he would look out for me. The day we found Angel, I was thinking of suicide. I missed him so much. I couldn't do it, I had Angel to care for."

There are miracles that we never notice. While Tasha lay dying, did the girl's father somehow manage to put things in place to help the dog and save his grieving daughter? I like to believe that angels reached out to bring an end to the pain for girl and the dog. Tasha became Angel. It suited her. Two young hearts were lifted of the burden of pain and sorrow that day and given a chance at a life filled with love and happiness. That, in my mind, is a small miracle.

The public never got to know him. Until one day he never came. Instead, a gathering took place. Socially abandoned souls like himself, who lived on the streets. Old, young, the physically handicapped or perhaps wounded in mind and soul, they arrived to stand together. The part that caught the eye, was that most of the people had a dog. There was a wide assortment of well mannered dogs, who looked far more healthy than their owners. The group had come to mourn and talk about, their friend, the man who fed the dogs.

He had about him a look of poverty. Second hand ragged clothes, poor teeth, greasy hair, plus he wasn't the best smelling man in town. He stood every day at the entrance to a busy mall strumming an old guitar, while he sang in a raspy voice. He would place his old cowboy hat on the ground, mutely asking for donations. Some threw pennies in, others were more generous, occasionally he would be gifted with a ten or twenty dollar bill. To all, he mumbled his thank you, always followed with a warm, "God Bless You."
He was a street musician, a busker. It was a common assumption that he had to be a drunkard or a drug user. He was neither. At one time, he had been a teacher, a moral man
who went to church, a good husband and father. He was respected by his peers. One ordinary day, crossing a street, a drunk driver slammed into him, throwing him high into he air. He lost his live, as he had known it, on that day.

Mentally challenged, his life changed. He lost his job, his wife and children. Home, cars, ease of living, gone. Not able to function in society, he eventually ended up on the streets where he made a life of sorts for himself. He also found cast offs of another kind. Dog's who were the most part unwanted. While the people could usually find food for themselves, the dogs must eat as well.

And so he began. A beat up guitar picked out of the garbage. His shattered mind could only remember two songs. He picked a spot in front of a huge mall, where he offered his music for spare change. It was to become his life for many years.

The money he earned went to feed dogs. He never slept if he heard that a new dog had been spotted, hungry or afraid. It was uncanny, how those dogs would walk up to him, then bury their head in his huge hands. A few lay at his feet while he entertained. Most stayed out of sight of the public while he worked, then joyfully mobbed him when he entered the dark alleys at night.

The man was not comfortable speaking to people. But with his dogs, he became a whole man again. He laughed, played games, taught them lessons, working with them to be the best dog they could be. He never lifted his voice, or hit an animal. Rather, he would hold the dogs head between his hands, put his forehead on the dogs head and murmur softly to it. Dogs of all sizes, tough dogs or small ones that needed to be held close, it was all the same. The man was blessed with a kind loving heart. He became the guardian of stray dogs, that likely would have died, unloved, untaught, unfed, if not for his commitment.

One night, he rolled into his blankets to sleep. Several dogs lay around him to guard him. He never asked that the dogs protect him, the animals did this on their own. On this night they were uneasy. In the darkest part of the night, they began to howl. In morning's light, the street people found him. He had been taken from them, into the gentle care of angels.

They gathered where he had played his music. Bitter tears, confusion, anger and great despair. A quiet hero was gone. Who would feed the dogs now?

It began slowly. In the same place, every day. Someone, with a dog would stand, playing the man's guitar while they sang. They used the old cowboy hat as he did, for kind hearted folks to toss offerings in. Along with the money, now people brought bags of dog food, blankets, even dog treats. They took the time to pat the dog, smiled at the singer and no one ever left without hearing, "God Bless You."