TRIBUTE
To My Angel

My Angel got her wings on Saturday, February 16, 2008.  The day is fitting as I met her on a Saturday during a rainy afternoon at a Ventura Blvd. park where Ursula brought several puppies in a van.  This was 10 years ago and before the permanent facility was opened.  Ursula sat 3 females in a row under a tent.  When I turned to look at them, the one in the middle, only 8 months old, looked like a little Angel, and I knew she was mine instantly.  Her name stuck.  And so very true to her name was my girl during our years together.

These final three months have been so difficult.  A large tumor had grown into a major blood vessel blocking it completely and the vets were in awe as to why she was even alive.  Boxer tenacity can be the only reason.  Angel’s slow decline was made tolerable when I found the “Pawspice” program which kept her tail a-waggling nearly to the end.  Despite this very confusing time for her, she stayed on duty as watch dog and kissed her Mommie’s tears away.

Veterinarian certified as the Best Behaved Dog in his practice, Angel was a great dog until diagnosed in November.  My goal now is to forget her decline and remember her chasing the squirrels from the backyard, playing with her favorite ring toy, sunning herself in the backyard and scratching her back on the concrete, ending in that wildly funny pose with her legs pointing straight up.  I never missed the opportunity for a belly-rubbin’ session.  Angel was a “Miss January” in last year’s BRLA calendar (true the camera adds 10 pounds,) and loved her best friend, fellow Boxer, Bobbi.  She patrolled the neighborhood twice daily on her long leash as we did our “Walking Dance,” usually ending with a visit to our neighbor, Uncle Clarence.   She loved her “Gramma Grampa,” looking towards the window with a perk of an ear whenever I mentioned their name.  I clapped each time she caught the treat tossed by her Uncle Richard in their morning routine.  Her ears flew like wings when she jumped for the treat.  Oh, those ears!  She looked like the Flying Nun.

When Angel wanted my attention, she’d tell me with a “woo-woo-woo-woo-woo.”  When I wanted hers, I’d holler “Where is my Wigglebutt?”  She greeted a Fed Ex delivery, the mailman, and others infringing our territory with robust barking.  Any ring of the doorbell warranted her attention.  I have no doubt she understood English.  Our favorite whisper being: “Angel, Mommie, Home, Good.”  We slept butt-to-butt all our nights together, sometimes waking to the sight of her head on the edge of the bed, jowls spread, giving a small sigh asking for her breakfast.

A few days after her diagnosis, I awoke with the image that my girl was in Jesus’ Arms and that going forward I would care for her until he needs her in Heaven.  I created my image of her sleeping peacefully and made 2007 Christmas cards.

And that was Angel.
A good girl to the end. 
My Baby. 
My Daughter. 
My Angel.

Barbara Mudge

Note* Barbara recently came to BRLA and adopted Lois Lane, one of the most deserving and longest waiting Boxer girls. Barbara tells us that Angel is training Lois from above and that Lois is doing great. Angel is so proud of her mom adopting again so soon giving another angel a chance at love.