26402_433657032066_1074825_nToday is Cola’s 3rd birthday.  We picked her from a shelter.  In the midst of chaos, she sat quietly in her cage and nuzzled my hand. That was all it took. I think a little angel might have been hovering there that day. We had to give them another night with her since she had to be “fixed” before the’d let us take her.  When we brought her home, she was lethargic and looking so little and needy after her surgery.  David had said for so long, “no, we are never having a dog”. Pleading didn’t crack the armor one bit.  So to hear him say “let’s get a dog” was similar to seeing pigs flying above us in the sky. Whether intentional or not on David’s part, Cola became more than a pet to me.  I was in bed, sick, wishing to be up and part of the families activities, but couldn’t.  It was a rough year. When the family would leave, I was alone, fighting physically, mentally and emotionally. Cola truly helped me. She was my little cheer-up girl, making me smile.  I could pet her and she’d stay and we’d both enjoy the deep sighs of the other.  That first night we made her scrambled eggs.  She loved them, of course.  So today, I made her eggs.  I wonder if she remembered? Do dogs have memories? I don’t know, but I want her to feel special.  It affects me that way .  I see sunsets and stars and remember my first interactions with God as a child.  Maybe. Just maybe Cola remembers too.