My first rescue dog was a cocker spaniel that I named Chelsea. She was eight months old and I believe she had been abused because she was afraid of people for most of her life. My vet always commented on how sweet she was because most of the cockers she treated were mean. She said it was because there was so much inbreeding. My father and I were never close and he had recently passed away. My mom had talked about the sweet cocker he had when they got married and how she protected me and my siblings as babies. I’ve often wondered if my dad had a hand in sending her to me. She was with me for 18 years. I wrote a song about how she came into my life unexpectedly, scared and abused and I included three stages in our lives. One was when she was rescued and I was grooming her and she looked at me with her sad brown eyes and said, “Thank you for saving my life.” The next stage was when my mom was frail and in an assisted living facility. I would take Chelsea to visit her and after one of those visits she looked at me with her sad brown eyes and said, “I will never leave your side.” The final stage was when she was 18. Mom had been gone about five years and it was just me and Chelsea. Just before she “crossed over the rainbow bridge” she looked at me with her sad brown eyes and said, “Thank you for giving me a good life.” She was as important to me in my life as I was in hers; we kind of rescued each other.