How do I say goodbye to such a dear creature? I don't think I can. I prefer to think you are still with us. You've been gone such a short time. We have 14 critters in our home, but it's empty without you Cory. So I close my eyes and see you...lying on the couch or relaxing high on the grooming table.

You liked being up high, you liked to survey your domain and 'keep all in order'. So much like your grandmother, Mandy, you demanded respect and gave it in return. You were Manly's daughter but it was always your grandmother I saw in you.. You never met her but she was very much a part of you.

I received a call from a friend saying she was leaving state and would I be interested in purchasing 5 poodles from her. I bought them sight unseen. And when they arrived, there you were. I was not your breeder, your mother was one of my puppies who had returned for a visit with Manly. But I do think I saw you as a newborn. That name...Cuddles...had to go! It just wasn't you. You didn't cuddle with me...you didn't like me. I tried for a long time and couldn't make friends with you. I was getting desperate, thinking you would never adjust. You were not happy and you didn't trust anyone. I have a few scars on my hands to prove that :-)

But one day, for no apparent reason, you flew through the house, landed in Ray's lap, and in one moment fell in love. You had total trust in Ray, and he in you. It was amazing. Ray had not gotten attached to a dog since losing your dear grandmother. And I was so pleased to see you two together. I've never seen anything like it before and don't think I ever will again. You two were meant for each other.

You became Ray's constant companion, often insisting on sitting on his grooming table when it was not being used. Customers were startled seeing you sitting there, thinking we had left a dog there unattended and without a restraint. But they got to know you...from a distance. You were Ray's dog and didn't appreciate anyone else. Still, the time came when I decided I wanted to breed you. And you were one of the worse moms I have ever seen. You hated staying with your puppies...you only wanted Ray. So I promised you if you would whelp and raise a little girl for me you would never have to have puppies again. And you came through for me. Your next litter was a single brown female and you loved and raised her. We named her TLC's-Brat Attack. You were then spayed and lived the life of a queen.

You slowly decided the rest of the family were nice people too and you loved us. But Ray was your personal person, your best friend and the only one you ever fully trusted. I liked it that way. Your father is always with me and it was nice to see you always with Ray.

You were such a happy, active dog, not a sick day in your life. So one Sunday night when you didn't beg your human Daddy to go to bed, we knew something wasn't right. The next day you seemed a little depressed and we called the vet. To the average person, you looked fine. But we knew our Cory, and you weren't. Your grandmother had survived cancer surgery to remain with us for several more years. We tried to prepare ourselves for something like that while hoping it was not nearly as serious. But it was not to be. The vet said liver failure and it was only a matter of time. We were devastated. Neither Ray nor I could bare to say a word, we didn't ask how much time you had. And when we lost you two days later we felt so cheated. We still do. We should have been allowed to have you for much longer than we did. 9 1/2 years is not long enough. But dear Cory, no amount of years would have been enough.

You never appeared to be in pain, we have that to be grateful for. We held you in our arms, perhaps thinking if we held you close enough we could keep you. You looked so weak and tired and finally we told you if you had to leave us we understood and we loved you...you closed your eyes.

I'm not going to tell you goodbye Cory. Part of you is the still with us, the love, devotion, friendship, the understanding. I know we will see you again, my friend. You are with your grandmother now and I can't help but smile when I think of that.