She was always by my side. When she needed to go out, she would run up, lick my nose, then run back to the door. The last few years of her life, she stayed by my side, slept with me by my feet. On her last morning, she laid on the couch, not moving, only to take the effort to look up at me.  Looking at her aged, now thinned out figure, I knew it was "her time". I held her tight, and we said our good byes, then she looked up at me and lovingly licked my face, as if to say, "it's all right". 



The 9 mile drive into the vet's office was the longest I have ever taken. She laid quietly next to me on the passenger's seat with her head near my leg facing me. I carried her gently into the vet's office with much love while she was wrapped in her blanket. I was met by my vet of 30 years, where he took us directly to a private room. I was told by him that he would do whatever I wished, but in a comforting way showed me her chart history, told me that I have done more for her (and my other Beagles) as if they were my kids. Then he said, "it's her time". 



I said good bye to her for the last time, and very reluctantly walked away, leaving a big part of me behind. 



I had her creamated and she is now in a special place, back at home. Part of her is in the yard, in her most "special" spots, the areas she would meander to, places I always knew where I could find her.



It is said that our beloved pets are at the Rainbow Bridge, awaiting our arrival. I pray this is true. I look forward to this day for my reunion with all of my beloved Beagles that have come into this home. 



I deeply miss my Cleo, called home on this day one year ago, along with one of my other loyal companions, Peppermint, which I also lost on this day, 23 years ago. I am in solid belief that they are being taken care of by my Grandfather and my best friend Chuck Matthews until I can resume my "dog parental" responsibilies.



May God Bless them and all who have lost as I have.