Kerri’s Little Guardian
A true story of Kerri, Teddy, and Michael
By Michael Cross
This is a true Teddy’s Tales story.
Teddy was six months old when he came home for the first time. He was small and curly and full of questions about the world.
Michael and Kerri found him in Princeton.
They drove out together to meet this tiny dog they had only seen in photos.
On the way back home, they stopped at one of Kerri’s favorite forestry sites—Picard Creek.
There, beside the creek, they walked Teddy for the very first time.
He sniffed the air, felt the dirt under his paws, and looked up at his new people with bright, curious eyes.
They were eager to get him home, to teach him where to sleep, how to walk on a leash, and how to pee outside.
Teddy was a quick learner.
Very soon he knew that outside was the right place to go, and that coming back inside meant praise, treats, and the comfort of his new home.
Kerri had already been living with cancer for some time.
It was the kind that medicines could only slow, not fully take away. Through it all She stayed herself—strong, stubborn, funny, and full of love.
Teddy was not just any dog. He was a companion, a furry nurse, and a tiny guardian with a big job: to bring comfort and love to Kerri, and later to stay by Michael’s side when Kerri was gone.
A New Friend on the Couch
Kerri and Teddy on the couch, getting to know each other.
At first, Teddy was not sure what his new life would be like.
There were soft couches, sunny windows, and a lady named Kerri who moved a little slowly but whose eyes were kind.
At home, Michael went to work, and Teddy stayed to watch over Kerri. From his spot on the couch, he could see her every move. If she stood up, he noticed. If she sat back down, he settled beside her again.
Kerri would sit on the couch, and Teddy would climb up next to her. Sometimes she smiled just by looking at him. Sometimes they both sat quietly, listening to the sounds of the house together.
Teddy didn’t understand words like “cancer” or “treatment.”
He only knew that when he stayed close, Kerri’s shoulders relaxed, and the room felt a little softer.
Watching the World Together
Kerri in her chair by the window, Teddy keeping watch on her lap.
Kerri had a special chair by the big front window.
From there she could see the street, the trees, and the changing seasons.
Teddy quickly decided that the chair was his lookout post too.
He would climb up onto Kerri’s lap, facing the window like a little guard dog.
Cars passed. Birds hopped on the lawn. People walked by.
Sometimes Teddy barked at the world; sometimes he just watched, very serious.
Kerri would wrap one arm around him and rest her head on his back.
Even on hard days, there was still this: Kerri and her dog, a window, and the simple comfort of being together.
Quiet Days, Gentle Care
Resting on the couch, with Teddy nearby like a little white cloud.
Some days, Kerri was very tired.
Her body hurt, and even small movements took a lot of energy.
On those days, she lay down on the couch with pillows and blankets.
Teddy understood. He climbed up carefully, settling his paws where they wouldn’t hurt her, and stayed as still as a fluffy stone.
There were medicines on the table and water bottles close by.
There were quiet conversations, soft TV sounds, or just silence.
Teddy’s job was simple and huge: do not leave. Just be there. Just breathe beside her.
Keeping Teddy Safe
Teddy might have been small, but he was sure he was a big dog.
He charged into life with more courage than size, and Kerri knew that could get him hurt.
Kerri insisted that Teddy have pet insurance just in case his brave little heart led him into trouble.
She and Michael took him to the doctor for all his immunizations, making sure he was safe from as many illnesses as possible.
Kerri did not want Teddy to get sick. She needed him to be healthy and strong, not only for her, but for Michael—so that when it was time for her to leave, Teddy could stay and look after him for many years to come.
Little Joys on Hard Days
Kerri in her red robe, Teddy pressed close while she plays a game.
Not every moment was sad.
Even while living with cancer, there were small, bright islands of joy.
Kerri wrapped herself in a bright red robe and played games on her tablet.
Teddy curled against her side, his fur blending with the blanket.
When Kerri laughed at something on the screen, Teddy’s tail thumped.
When she reached out to pet him, he leaned into her hand as if to say, “I’m here. I’m always here.”
These were ordinary moments, and that is what made them magic.
The Chair, the Couch, and the Light
Side by side again, in the soft afternoon light.
The living room became their little world.
The big window brought in changing light—morning brightness, afternoon glow, dusky evenings.
Kerri and Teddy sat together on the couch or in the special chair, sometimes talking, sometimes quiet, sometimes planning small adventures for a day when Kerri felt a bit stronger.
The more time they spent side by side, the more it felt like they were stitched together by invisible threads of love.
Holding On to Each Other
Another day, another couch, the same two hearts.
Cancer changed many things: where they sat, which blankets they used, what medicines were nearby.
But some things never changed.
Kerri’s hand still reached for Teddy’s fur without even thinking.
Teddy still leaned against her, his eyes soft, his body shaped into the curve of hers.
Even when pain and worry were close, so were they.
Kerri never let cancer take the front row in her life. She was, and is, the strongest person Michael has ever known.
Hospital Walks
For years, Kerri had treatments every two weeks.
Each visit meant hours at the hospital, sometimes visiting with mum while medication flowed into her arm, working hard to slow the cancer.
Teddy didn’t understand what the medicine was doing.
But he knew that hospitals were serious places and that Kerri needed him close.
While Kerri sat with Mum and the IV, Michael and Teddy walked outside the hospital.
They circled the grounds, sniffed the grass, watched people come and go, and always came back to check on Kerri.
To Teddy, it was simple:
Kerri went inside to do something hard, and he stayed nearby to be ready when she came out.
He did not know he was walking through some of the biggest battles of her life—he only knew that his place was with his family.
Walks to the park in the Sunshine
There were days when Kerri felt well enough to visit the park.
She and Michael took Teddy to the playground.
Teddy trotted in the grass, his tail carrying the sunshine.
Sometimes he came back to lean against her knee and collect a pat on the head.
These walks were not long or fast, but they were full of life.
Saying Goodbye, Keeping Love
Kerri lived with Teddy for eleven precious months.
During that time, he slept beside her chair, watched the world from her lap, and followed her from room to room like a small, curly shadow.
One day, Kerri’s body was too tired to keep going.
She passed away peacefully at home, with Michael and Teddy at her side.
Teddy did not know the word “goodbye.”
He only knew that the room was quieter, and that Michael’s tears smelled like sadness.
So, Teddy did the thing he had always done.
He stayed.
He curled up in Kerri’s special chair.
He sat by Michael’s side on the couch.
He watched the world through the same big window, now guarding just one human instead of two.
Kerri was gone, but the love she had poured into Teddy and Michael did not disappear.
It stayed in the living room, in the chair and the blankets, in the habits of walks and quiet evenings. It stayed in Teddy’s soft fur and in Michael’s memories.
Teddy and Michael, Carrying Kerri’s Love
Today, Teddy is still small and curly, still full of questions about the world.
He barks at thunder, watches out the window, and curls into the same shapes on the couch.
Now his main job is to be Michael’s companion— to listen when the house feels too quiet, to nudge for walks when the days feel too heavy, and to remind Michael, that love did not end when Kerri passed on.
Every cuddle, every walk, every silly bark is a little piece of Kerri’s love, still moving, still warm, still here.
This is Teddy’s tale—
the story of a woman, a dog, and a man who carries them both in his heart.
Kerri
