Winner of the

~LOVE LETTER CONTEST ~

 

     My dear, dear John,

 


To my way of thinking, romance is an illusion and love is the reality. Thank goodness you skipped the first part and proceeded directly to the second. It is your ability to convey this love which I happily and so gratefully accept.


You are always enthusiastic about my ideas. Even taking a walk in the rain gets your immediate approval. I do know you would prefer watching television from the comfort of the couch, but keeping me happy seems to be your priority. I love you for this.

And you are always around when there is a crisis.

            
Remember last week when I was sick and was hanging on the “porcelain throne” and you walked in. We both knew; you could do nothing about it, but you came to offer your comfort, which is all I really needed. Then later, I confessed to you that I really was having a problem dealing ‘with this sickness.

You said nothing, but your expression; was there, full of compassion and sympathy. Nothing could have raised my spirits more. So, in the evening, when you went to bed, I slept easier knowing you were beside me.

You have never cared about the material things in life--extra conveniences mean nothing to you. That’s why, when I think of what I could do to show my love for you, nothing comes to mind.

Because you are a delightful social creature, maybe dinner for two in a fancy restaurant would be the perfect Valentine tribute. Trouble is, most restaurants won’t permit you on the premises.

I’ll pick you up a bone, and we’ll have dinner at home, my pet.

 

                                   Love,

                                      Virginia

 

 

 

     This wonderful tribute was the winning entry in a contest put on by a local restaurant.  The winner was to receive dinner for two at the restaurant and a photograph taken by a professional photographer.

     The love letter was written to “John”, a 3-legged, pit bull terrier who was dropped off at Virginia’s farm when he was a tiny pup. His leg was beyond repair, so it had to be amputated.  When this letter was written, John was about 5-years-old and her constant companion as she battled breast cancer.