Rosebud was my greatest temptation. My teeny tiny foster who came in wobbly, breathing horribly, very allergic, and with a pyometra found a home that made it all worthwhile to give her up. I really think she lived her whole puppy mill life to find her Mommy Suzanne, and it was worth it. Rosebud, whom I named for her size and condition (scared and not quite bloomed), thanks to Linda Troup, was adopted in a home where she went everywhere with the humans, and groomed her brother Jackie just like Murpheee taught her. Jackie passed away suddenly and Rosebud was never quite the same. She recently passed away in her sleep while whispering to Murpheee and Jackie to make sure that they would be ready to meet her.

They were, of course. Now they chase (Rosebud runs a little sideways, fun! fun! fun!) balls of chocolate across clouds of cheese, stopping periodically to look down heaven’s portholes to blow us kisses. When you are reading a book or sitting quietly and you suddenly feel a tickle on your cheek, it isn’t a floating spider web. It is someone blowing you kisses as only an angel can.

—
Karen Perkins