When I first met J, my current roomie, she advised me she had many pets. Specifically a number of cats and three dogs. Chihuahuas. I thought crap, chihuahuas – little annoying barky, bitey things.
But, I was wrong. Each has proven themself special in their own way. All have unconditional love.
One of the dogs is Crosby, a tiny, tri-color Chihuahua long hair, who can pretty much fit in one hand. She’s quite old – 19 years(!), old for any dog. And is deaf, blind and has no teeth. She pretty much resembles the letter Q face-on, with her tongue playfully hanging to one side.
And, when I moved in a year ago June, Crosby adopted me. For some reason, she likes being around me. And she’s very quick and stealthy – one minute she’s asleep in the living room, the next laying immediately behind my heels while I make breakfast. So stealthy that I’ve almost broken my neck suddenly noticing her proximity and trying not to step on her. And she likes sitting on my chest looking around while I’m in the recliner. Not as though she can see much. And I have to hold on, because she’ll try to jump off, as though it’s 6 inches high.
And when you let her out with the other dogs, she will do her business in about ten seconds, then turn around and bark incessantly to be let back in. And she won’t stop until you do.
But now, she’s begun losing her footing, stumbling about as she walks into things. And she sleeps most of the time. She doesn’t seem to be in any pain, but she is having more-and-more difficulty with the daily stuff of life.
So, the decision was made. Yesterday.
I’ve lost previous pets, but she wasn’t even mine to lose.
Goodbye Sweet Crosby. Who am I gonna trip over now?