Her father started crying. “Madison, honey…”
“She’s at my house,” I said. “She had surgery. The tumor’s gone. She’s recovering.”
Madison screamed. Pure joy. Jumped up and down. “I knew it! I knew angels rode motorcycles! Mommy was right!”
Her father pulled me aside. “I can’t pay you back.”
“Didn’t ask you to.”
“Why would you do this?”
I showed him Madison’s note. He read it and broke down completely.
“She took her tooth fairy money. I didn’t even know she knew Daisy was sick.”
“Kids know everything. Question is, do you want Daisy back?”
“God, yes. But I can’t afford her medicine. The vet said even after surgery—”
“I’ll cover it.”
“Why?”
“Because your daughter believes in miracles. Because she believes bikers are angels. Because she’s seven and already lost her mom. She doesn’t need to lose anything else.”
We brought Daisy home that weekend. She was walking better. Still weak but that tail didn’t stop wagging. When she saw Madison, she cried. Actually cried. Dogs cry, don’t let anyone tell you different.
Madison was gentle. Careful. Sat beside Daisy and read her stories. Fed her peanut butter from a spoon. Never left her side.
“Thank you, Mr. Biker Angel,” she said.
“Just Bear.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bear Angel.”
Close enough.
I started stopping by weekly. Bringing Daisy’s medicine. Dog food. Groceries that I’d claim were “extras” from my shopping. Madison’s dad, Tom, was proud but not stupid. He knew what I was doing.
“I’m going to pay you back.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“My brother’s dying. Cancer. I can’t save him. But I could save Daisy. Sometimes you save what you can.”
Madison would run out when she heard my Harley. “Mr. Bear Angel! Daisy walked all the way to the corner today! Daisy ate all her breakfast! Daisy played with Duck!” (Duck was the stuffed toy.)
Six months passed. Daisy was still alive. Growing stronger. The cancer was still there, we knew that. But she was living. Playing. Being loved.
My brother died month seven. I was wrecked. Hadn’t visited Tom and Madison in two weeks. When I finally went back, Madison was sitting on the porch with Daisy, both wearing matching bandanas.
“We were worried,” Madison said. “Daisy missed you.”
“Sorry, kiddo. My brother went to heaven.”
Madison nodded solemnly. “Like Mommy. Is he a real angel now? Not a motorcycle angel but a heaven angel?”
“I guess so.”
“Good. Mommy needs friends. Do you want to see what Daisy learned?”
She’d taught Daisy to “pray” – paws together, head down. It was ridiculous and beautiful and I laughed for the first time since the funeral.
Tom came out. “Heard about your brother. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.”
“Madison made you something.”
She handed me a drawing. Me on my motorcycle with wings. Daisy with wings. Her mom and my brother in the clouds. At the bottom, in purple crayon: “Thank you for being our angel. Love Madison and Daisy.”
“It’s beautiful, kiddo.”
“Mr. Bear Angel? Will Daisy go to heaven?”
“Everything good goes to heaven.”
“Will you take care of her until I get there? When I’m very very old?”
“Promise.”
One year. Daisy made it one year. The vet couldn’t believe it. “Love,” Amy said. “It’s always love that makes the difference.”
When Daisy started declining, we all knew. She stopped eating. Stopped playing with Duck. But she still wagged when Madison came home from school.
“It’s time,” Tom told me. “I can see it. But I can’t…”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Madison will be devastated.”
“She’ll survive. She’s got her dad. And she knows Daisy was loved.”
We did it on a Sunday. Madison held Daisy while Amy administered the injection. Daisy went peacefully, tail wagging to the end, looking at Madison with such love it broke everyone in the room.
“She’s with Mommy now,” Madison said through her tears. “Mommy has Duck’s sister toy. They’re playing.”
We buried Daisy in my backyard. Have more room than Tom. Madison visits every week. Brings flowers. Talks to Daisy. Tells her about school.
“Mr. Bear Angel?”
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“You saved her. She got one more year. One more year of love.”
“Your tooth fairy money saved her.”
She smiled, gap-toothed grin. “$7.43.”
“Best investment ever made.” Continue reading…