Jazzie, our beautiful puppy of seven years, so good, so gentle with our little granddaughter.
Always wanting to kiss her, protect her, as if she was her own puppy.
A wonderful friendship based on mutual admiration, formed when our granddaughter was just a few months old.
Growing up with Jazzie was a heart-warming adventure for all of us as we looked on.
Caring, love - it was always reflected in Jazzie's crystal blue eyes whenever she saw our granddaughter, and was mirrored back to her tenfold.
Too young, she died of hemoyletic anemia, I tried to save her, my precious Jazzie, but to no avail.
Sobbing from my innermost being, I cried my heart out for her, the sorrow pulled out my spirit.
I watched as my granddaughter held her paw, and listened as she cried,
'Jazzie is my puppy, Grandma, me no say good-bye, I love you Jazzie girl, no more kisses', tears pouring from her eyes.
Death touching our granddaughter's edges - she's only two - sorrow has crept upon her much too soon in life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem