Mickey, the boston terrier, was the best dog you'll ever meet. He begged, and he could be very hyper, but we loved him dearly besides that.  He lived a great life, but it was short. He was very loved by everyone that knew him, and he knew that. 

    When you had food and left it unattended, he would eat it. If you were sitting at the table painting he'd think you're eating and climb onto your lap. He went on almost ever vacation with us, and I remember on one very, hot day, he was panting like crazy. So Grandpa gave him water with ice. He kissed grandpa and drank his water.



  On November 22nd we took Mickers to the vet. he was my "little brother" I'd had since I was 2. He lived to be 9 years old. Anyways,  the doctor told my parents "it" had to be done. I was in the waiting room. My mother came out, tearstained face and my little 2-year-old sister was even crying. It was the first time I'd ever seen my father cry in my life, as well. The nurse left us alone with him and Dad, Lainy and I left. Mom stayed with mickers. She said after he'd died that she kissed his forehead which was still warm and he twitched.