Eulogy for my little friend, who departed after 15 years
And so it was, the last day with my beloved Chihuahua. After 15 years, with a huge amount of sadness, I had to bring things to an end. She hadn’t eaten in almost three days, so that was a sign she was ready and wanted to let go. All the foods she would normally pounce on, held no interest today.
She passed away very peacefully and quietly in my lap. I held her little paws in my hand right to the end. And in that last moment, I felt a shadow cross my heart.
She came in my life in October 2007. My first memory is taking her around the neighborhood for Trick-or-Treating. She fit in the palm of my hand, like a little toy.
Right from the start, she decided to accept me as her human. She would stand at my side while barking at other, much larger, dogs. If I backed up, she would retreat while still barking obscenities.
Throughout her life, I was the one she chose to spend time with. Perhaps it was because I spoiled her with the good leftovers, or I let her steal my heat in the winter. She would even hug me, her paws on either side of my neck, her head nestled on my shoulder. It wasn’t anything she was taught, she developed that on her own. It was very cute and always made me laugh. It also made me feel loved.
One of her great loves was to sit on the couch, watch TV, and have snacks. Ok, she wasn’t watching TV, but she loved “Hot dogs and tater-tot” weekends. And wary be those who came between her and a pork chop bone, she was like a piranha.
When Covid hit, we spent all day, every day together. She knew my work routine, especially when it was lunch time. She knew to come over and wait for me to take her out so she could lay on the deck in the sun.
I said if I had to go back into the office, we would both suffer terrible separation anxiety. At least she got out of that.
She exited my life on October 15, 2022, after 15 years of being my little friend.
It’s fitting she came and went in October, the month where we honor life and death. We remember those who have passed, and come to terms that our turn is out there on the horizon somewhere.
The vet took a paw print for me, which I’m going to laminate and put on the bookshelf so I can see it each day. It will be a nice reminder of our life together.
I’m deeply saddened she’s gone. I miss her already. The house feels strange and empty. I can feel she isn’t here. Her memory certainly is though. I will always have that.
Our last day together was a beautiful fall one, with bright sun and blue skies. When I took her potty, we had the sun on our faces. I would kiss her on the cheek, and she gave her little underbite smile. I think she understood my affection for her. She would snuggle into me as I walked her back into the house.
I’m glad it’s over. I’m obviously not happy she is gone, but I’m glad she isn’t suffering. She isn’t itchy. She isn’t scratching. She doesn’t have stomach problems. She isn’t bumping into the furniture she can’t see anymore.
I’m will miss her terribly for quite some time to come. Even as I write this down, I feel the tears. I have lost a dear friend today. It doesn’t matter that she wasn’t human, she was incredibly special to me.
Tomorrow I’ll will find a nice spot on the wooded property I own and put her to rest. It might be cliche, but I’m sure it will be in the shade of a tree or down by the creek. She wasn’t a fan of the outdoors, the creek, or running around like the other dogs, but it seems a suitable place for her. It will make me feel comforted, and that is the role of a funeral I suppose.
Grief comes in many forms. We can’t enjoy love without loss. We can’t savor joy without knowing sadness. We can’t revel in life without understanding there is finality in death.
Momento Mori