On a chilly day, September 20, 1975, a 9-week-old miniature schnauzer puppy came into the lives of my parents, my brother, and me. Her name was Mopsy and, although the events leading up to our getting her are numerous and complexly intertwined, that sweet little dog was anything but complicated. Hers was a genuine, unconditional love that blessed us all until September 3, 1989 when she passed away.
Mopsy's days with us were a (I'd like to think mutual) delight. She was always a happy, curious dog who loved riding in the car and traveling to new places. Her life was too short, when measured in years, but I think that's always the case. I believe God gives dogs shorter life spans so they can get to the Rainbow Bridge and heaven sooner.
So, this day, I remember Mopsy, and the "sister" and "brother" who followed her: Flopsy and Sebastian, mini schnauzers all. I am grateful for the joy that they have all brought to my family over the years. What a blessing are dogs!
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