Yesterday afternoon late, Sonny came home looking like he’d been through a war zone.  Battered, beaten, and bruised.  He lay quiet and wounded.  My baby.

I feel for him.  Frank keeps telling me that he will be fine.  I know this.  But I feel the angst and pain because he’s an innocent and also because I feel responsible.  Because he is mine to take care of and even though I’ve done what I could to help him with his ear infections; somehow I feel like I’ve let him down.

We got Sonny five years ago during a very difficult time in our lives.  Our son Mark was going through a tough set back.  From the moment we introduced him to Mark and they both lit up, we knew he was ours.  Sonny like his name is sunshine.  He’s so happy, playful and sweet that he is always bringing joy into our lives just by watching the way he enjoys his.  Everything is an opportunity for fun to him.  Whether he is going for a walk or run (I love to watch him run, its like poetry in motion), going for a ride, chasing our cats or ‘the girls’ our cows, or swimming in the pool, everything is a ‘treat’ to him.

To see him like this breaks my heart.  Well at least it did last night.  This morning even though he’s still ‘quieter’ than usual, his tail is wagging, he’s laying next to me and he’s my sunshine once again.  Yea Sonny, nothing keeps him down for long.