Not long after my daughter was born, and being in a wheelchair (birth defect) my wife and I both agreed that she could learn something about responsibility by having a friend who wouldn’t care that her legs didn’t work.
My daughter named her new friend, Pookie, after the Soupy Sales handpuppet, and this little mutt became our friend and protector. I called him, affectionitly Dummy Dog, only because he was so friendly, he would occasionally “crash” into walls and such, by running too fast in the house – but he was no dummie. As out protector, he would bark at anyone who he considered a threat, if they walked pass the house, and if he didn’t know them – but if you were friendly to us, you automatically became his friend.Of all people, his “best” friend was the mailman, who always had a treat for the Pook, and he would pull on his leash and get excited when he saw the postman.
As my daughter was bussed to school, the Pook would wait by the window, getting restless when she was about to come home. He would run on the bus, give any and all of the other kids a kiss, and then run into the house with my daughter.
Our saddest day was when he took a nap, in his favorite place near the radiator in the living room, and when to sleep. I was called home from work, to meet my daughter when she got off the bus, and there she questioned, not only why I was home, but where was Pookie. If you have never heard a person wail, then you have been lucky. With tears on our cheeks and pain in our hearts, we had told our daughter that the Pook was no longer with us. However, we are glad that he didn’t suffer, he was among his family and he was waiting for my own dad when he passed away.
So, it must be true, all good dogs go to heaven, and Pookie is now among friends.

Ed from NJ