Beautifully Broken

A few weeks ago I came home from dinner to find my beloved Yorkshire terrier, Zoey, had passed away. She was thirteen years old and weighed all of five pounds. When she was younger ,she went everywhere with me. She flew in planes, traveled by motorhome, stayed in hotels, went shopping, and I carried her into restaurants in her travel bag. As she got older, she became more nervous, so she traveled only if we went somewhere in the motorhome, which was quite often. My nickname for her was Baby Girl.