This is Eddie—not the most imaginative name for a dog, but she came to us from Edna, Texas. We lived in a Texas town near the Gulf coast. Although technically she was the family dog, I considered her to be my dog. She was my comfort, cohort, and confidant. It was the early sixties and I was nine or ten years old.
One day when I was at school, someone came to the door and she may have bitten them. My memory is a little vague on all the details, but I know it wasn't bad and no real damage was done. When I came home she was gone—there was no chance to say goodbye.
No one would tell me exactly where she was or how she was doing. Finally, I got the phone number for her new home and called. The man who answered the phone said, "That dog is gone." Then maybe, "That dog is gone, she ran away." At least there was some closure.
This was my favorite picture of Eddie, because it captured her sweet face. For a long time, the photo was on my bulletin board.