Thanksgiving was great and I was still in a fried turkey euphoric state when I my french bulldog Stella got ran over and killed friday morning. Less then 2 hours earlier she had been snuggled up on the couch with me watching tv. She wasn't even 2 years old yet. It was like loosing a family member. The most important thing was that she loved us and she knew we loved her. She was just as protective of my son as a me or my wife. He was her little boy too. As I was digging a hole to bury her my son walked down and said Dad what are you doing? I told him that I we had to bury Stella because she had gone to a better place. He said but dad, we can't bury Stella she is my friend. I told him I knew that, but that she was better off and in a better place where nothing could harm her. I'm not sure he can grasp the entirety of everything that happened Friday, but it was an early life lesson. I know that everything happens for a reason and I am just grateful that God brought that little bulldog into our lives. After all the word dog is God backwards. Maybe that is why they are referred to as a mans best friend. She will truly be missed!
