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</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--></head><body lang=EN-US link="#0563C1" vlink="#954F72"><div class=WordSection1><p class=MsoNormal>Nick was born on Christmas Day 1996. He came to live with me at my house in April 1997 at about 16 weeks old. Less than a month later, my mom was diagnosed with kidney cancer and my world turned upside down. Nick was a “talker” from the beginning but I didn’t begin “transcribing” his conversations until he was living with us. Then he became my personal therapy dog through the rough roads ahead. My mom died under the care of hospice at my house in January 1998. When I brought her to my home (her wish was to die there) I was concerned that a 1 year old rambunctious puppy would be too much and he may have to go stay with Pat for a while. The night she arrived (private air ambulance jet from Texas) he stood quietly by and watched … then crawled up in the chair across the room from her. He only left his “post” when I forced him to go outside. When she died, he never left my side for months (except when I went to work). He got his official Therapy Dog title at the tender age of 18 months … he was born to be a Therapy Dog.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Sandi<o:p></o:p></p></div></body></html>