Blackie was the sweetest little poodle I've ever had. He seemed to have a rough life in his early years in Puerto Rico but was saved by my mother's sister when she saw him get thrown from a moving vehicle. She was furious. She got out of the car she was riding in, grabbed Blackie and took him. My aunt brought him to my mother. Blackie was dirty, hairy and full of fleas but once my mother, my daughter (who named him Blackie), and my brother Juan got through with him, he was clean and flea-less. He had a lot of health problems but that didn't stop him from loving his new family that loved him right back. My father loved Blackie and when my father became terminally ill, my parents, Blackie and their other dog, Diamond returned to New York. Since my father was too ill to care for the two dogs and my mom was busy caring for my father, my family and I took Blackie in late 2006 and he was the little prince. He was so spoiled and I think he knew it. Before Blackie died, the vet estimated Blackie to be at least 16 years old and he could hardly see or hear. His health was failing and he could no longer go up and down the stairs so we would carry him. The morning of his death, my cousin said to me that he had seen my father entering the living room. He was in such a panic because everyone was sleeping and he was the only one awake. He saw him very clearly. Blackie slept in the living room so I said, well I guess my father has come for him.. and he did. I don't think any other dog can replace Blackie and the love we had for him. Blackie was the only thing I had left that belonged to my father.. and now they're both gone and I hope together again.
Blackie was the sweetest little poodle I've ever had. He seemed to have a rough life in his early years in Puerto Rico but was saved by my mother's sister when she saw him get thrown from a moving vehicle. She was furious. She got out of the car she was riding in, grabbed Blackie and took him. My aunt brought him to my mother. Blackie was dirty, hairy and full of fleas but once my mother, my daughter (who named him Blackie), and my brother Juan got through with him, he was clean and flea-less. He had a lot of health problems but that didn't stop him from loving his new family that loved him right back. My father loved Blackie and when my father became terminally ill, my parents, Blackie and their other dog, Diamond returned to New York. Since my father was too ill to care for the two dogs and my mom was busy caring for my father, my family and I took Blackie in late 2006 and he was the little prince. He was so spoiled and I think he knew it. Before Blackie died, the vet estimated Blackie to be at least 16 years old and he could hardly see or hear. His health was failing and he could no longer go up and down the stairs so we would carry him. The morning of his death, my cousin said to me that he had seen my father entering the living room. He was in such a panic because everyone was sleeping and he was the only one awake. He saw him very clearly. Blackie slept in the living room so I said, well I guess my father has come for him.. and he did. I don't think any other dog can replace Blackie and the love we had for him. Blackie was the only thing I had left that belonged to my father.. and now they're both gone and I hope together again.
