Solomon

Solomon was not alone as his soul reached Heaven on Friday.

Greeting him were the souls of children whom he had visited in the children's hospital, those who never left to go home and those who would be in the hospital multiple times before they died.

He never saw their thin hair from chemotherapy. Nor the tubes, the oxygen tanks or the weakened bodies wracked with disease. In each child, Solomon saw a friend, someone to whom he wanted to bring a little joy. He knew they needed him. They could braid his ears, dress him in outfits or just love on him. That was what he was meant to do.

At Special Olympics events, Solomon greeted athletes. They would pull him close and pose for pictures with him. He knew they needed him. And he needed to know he was making a difference in peoples' lives. It was his life's purpose.

Of course, he touched more than the strangers who became instant friends. Those of us blessed with him in our daily lives got so much from him. Most dogs take love. Solomon gave love. It was the giving that brought him happiness. When we were sad, he comforted us. When we were sick, he protected us.

Finally, last Friday, we were the ones who had to give to him. He was the one who was needy now. Our gift was to let him go. As painful as it was to us -- and as much as we miss him -- we owed it to him to end his suffering when suffering was all that was left.

In the children's hospital, Solomon wore a special outfit. It gave children hope and strength. He was Superdog, the "S" emblazoned on his chest, the red cape draped over his back. That's what Solomon will always be to us: A Super Dog.

-- His mommies, Cheryl and Ellen

Solomon died Dec. 27, 2002, at the age of 13 1/2.