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to our room. This became an almost
nightly routine. Same actions, same
conversation.
Ever since we’d gotten him as a two-
month-old, Beethoven had been my
dog. He would follow me from room
to room like a little shadow. But now
that Mom was in the house, I noticed
he paid more attention to her. The
days she was most agitated, he would
jump on the couch and lay his head
in her lap. I’d often find her watching
TV, absentmindedly rubbing his back.Other times Beethoven had only to
scratch the front door and Mom would
let him out.
“That dog got out again,” she would
say. She never learned his name.
I’d run to the open door. “Kids,
Beethoven escaped!”
Sometimes one of my kids would
make a desperate leap and grab
Beethoven before he reached the“THAT DOG” “He always knew where Mom
was,” Edwina says about Beethoven.