Bella

Bella was my Italian greyhound, and she came into my life when I was 8 years old. She was my first real pet, the first one big enough to be family.

As a puppy, she was pure wild. Over the years, she grew into a chill, dainty princess, and finally a calm old lady who had earned every nap. At the dog park, she was always the fastest. Watching her blast past the other pups never got old.

She was tougher than she looked. She once escaped from my mom's Miata at a red light in Saucon Valley on the way to the vet, and she survived. Put her in snow boots, though, and she walked so funny that I'd laugh until I couldn't breathe.

Bella outlived my mother. My loving grandmother cared for her into her senior years. I lived with her for a while and visited often after I moved away.

She was almost 18 when we sent her over the rainbow bridge, and I was with her in her last moments. She was warm, loved, and cared for, right to the end.

My sunshine, my heart, my Bella girl.

— Jai Smith