July 1, 2021

White Dog and Bella often have a "civilized" breakfast long after the others have finished eating and started their days. It seemed like today was one of those leisurely mornings. The plan was to give Bella her eye drops and then her breakfast and to follow that with meeting White Dog's needs. 

I adjusted to hold Our Tiny Dancer and greet her as we dripped her medication into her eyes. I heard Steve move things aside to kneel down in front of one of the open crates in the office. "Bella, you are WAY back there this morning..."

Followed by his wailed "...Sue, I think Bella has died." "What?" Then he carried in Bella's little white body legs pulled under her in sleep position; I reached for her while at the same time thinking "I guess it is not her anymore and she is SO small and yes there is no warmth or heartbeat." Tears began to run freely.

"Oh my god," I numbly directed Steve, "go check on White Dog. SHE'S the sick one!" White Dog was just waking and nestled into Steve's Good Morning. At the commotion the Army came rushing into the bedroom; they sniffed and nuzzled and looked very puzzled.

I had no answers for their looks.

Bella Bee Marie, former mill dog who had never touched grass until she was rescued, at 14 the matron, keeper of WDA History. My Tiny Dancer who rode home in my jacket and hid under my chair. Our mouse who learned to roar. Had stepped across the Bridge without even a warning.

When Steve guided by Nuka found this Girl just for me, this was the photo BRAS rescue posted of her:

Bella Bee as her confidence grew and she rocked her awakening:

Bella's favorite photo of herself in MacBeth, as the mad Queen Gertrude:

I will share more of Bella's life when I can bear to open the files. Just know our Tiny Dancer adored each of our friends and loved ones for cheering her on and caring about her. Thank you for helping a little mill girl dare to let her true colors shine.