Rest-ed in Peace
In a way, I believe her passing on Easter was symbolic. We always said she was a saint--the back door left wide open and she'd sit at the top of the stairs, watching the chipmunks patiently and protecting her family from intruders, never once wandering off or harming a soul. She'd rest her nose lovingly in your lap after a long day to let you know someone was there when you felt alone in the world. She'd gently nudge your elbow for a pat because there was never enough love to go around.
I love you my poopy pup, my baby girl. May your heaven be filled with filet mignon, long walks, and plenty of sloppy love.