I met Roscoe in March of 1991 when my best friend Jennings brought him home from the pet store. We lived in the same highrise in Baltimore and Jennings called me and asked me to come see what he had bought. I went upstairs expecting to see clothing or art work and instead I met the most adorable little dog in the world. Roscoe was 10 weeks old and looked like a stuffed animal, but one with an amazing personality. Early in his life I took Roscoe on his first walk with a leash and to his first veterinary appointment. We had a bond from our first meeting and it only got stronger as time went by. When Jennings became ill in 1995 he asked me if I would take Roscoe when he died since he knew we were so close and that Roscoe would be given a great home. Jennings died on January 10, 1996 and Roscoe became mine. Throughout his life Roscoe and I had many wonderful times together. My life after getting Roscoe was far more joyous and special than it had ever been before. He was a happy, loving and amazingly special animal. During his years with me Roscoe seemed to become even more loving and exhibited a sense of happiness that everyone around him could sense. Even professed non-dog people loved him and found him irresistable. As he aged Roscoe developed arthritis, but was otherwise very healthy and always maintained a truly happy disposition. He made me feel loved and cared for more than I had ever felt before in my life. On July 1, 2004 Roscoe became ill and was taken to the Pet ER in Towson, MD. He was diagnosed with Cushing's Disease, prescribed medication and I was told that he would get better over the course of the next day. Sadly, Roscoe became worse over that next day and when we returned to the Pet ER the veterinarian stated that the only options for him were exploratory surgery or euthanasia. Given his age the surgery was deemed too risky and I could not rationalize making him feel anymore pain.  Shortly after midnight on July 3, 2004 my beloved Roscoe went to sleep for the last time while I stroked his face and told him to rest. He kissed me one last time and began to snore as he often did. My friend Lowell held him with me and we both cried as we said goodbye to him. It was the hardest moment of my life. He leaves behind memories of pure joy and unparalleled love that nothing will ever be able to touch. I hope that if there is something after this life I'll see him there and he'll nuzzle up to me the way he always did. Until then I will just have to face the pain of a life without him and cherish the memories he gave me.