Saying goodbye to a cherished pet
He was the first dog I had who didn’t go crazy if he heard the word “walk.”
With tears and heartbreak, we sent our little Shih Tzu across the Rainbow Bridge today. By now he has been fitted with his angel wings and has been greeted by the dear dogs I have loved in the past: Lucky, my first dog and best friend; Missy, my childrens’ best friend; Cheech, who was super smart and took commands in three languages; and now Chamorro, the one my wife always called “the baby.”
And he was, just like a baby to us — sometimes demanding, always loving, impetuous, playful, a little dog who came to us through a rescue, and who delivered a million laughs every day, just by being his sweet, endearing self. In his golden years he enjoyed looking out of the window.
He did not like other dogs, but he did love all people. He had a strong personality and made friends on every walk, and was a kind of cute that I called cugly — cute mixed with ugly.
He was the first dog I had who didn’t go crazy if he heard the word “walk.”
But he loved going out with us — he had terrible separation anxiety when we adopted him more than a decade ago — but the idea of taking a walk just to whiz, he wasn’t crazy about that.
The thing he loved best was being with family. He was quiet and calm on long road trips to visit family in Florida, West Virginia, Maryland, and Massachusetts, and he loved staying in hotels along the way.
He was a Mama’s boy, and he was like a shadow to her. He never wanted her out of his sight. Daddy was more for rough housing and playing fetch.
Fetch was usually a short game because he would chase the tennis ball or toy, but he would never return it to the person who threw it.
My pet name for him was Nut Bag, because he did so many silly things. His actual name was Chamorro.
He weighed in at 20 pounds, but thought of himself as bigger and was always spoiling for a fight with other dogs in the building.
Since we adopted him when he was about 6, we didn’t know of his history with other pets. We did know he was never abused by a human, because he loved the two-leggeds so much.
Those who have never lived with a pet can’t understand the bond that is created. Chamorro was not “like a member of the family”; he was a member of the family, and you shouldn’t have a pet unless you feel the same.
Over the years he faced down bouts with Cushing’s disease, beat a lethal cancer prognosis, and lastly diabetes, for which Mommy gave him two insulin injections daily, without complaint.
With his growing list of ailments, and his advanced age, we knew the end was near.
We agreed the key test was quality of life, that we would not let him suffer one day too long because it hurt us too much to let him go.
Today was that day. He went to eternal sleep comfortably nestled in his Mommy’s lap.
