Well, my dog passed on about 6 pm this evening. I thought I was more prepared for it. Then it got close and I realized I wasn't. And now i'm just a blubbering mess. He was a 15 year old long haired Chihuahua. I rescued him from a shelter when he was 13. It's hard to find homes for senior dogs, so I was pissed to hear that he was dropped off at the shelter because he was "too old" now, "no more fun", and because they'd decided to get a teacup Chihuahua instead. I usually hate having little dogs around. But I took him home and I loved the shit out of him. He was my buddy. Hardly ever left my side and didn't go a night without sleeping next to me. And damn, he was so ugly. He was such a good dog. Tucker, one of my other dogs, is big and getting bigger. As I type this even, I suspect he's over there growing his ass off. He has his own kennel. He obviously needs a bigger one than my Chihuahua used. As Chico was "going" I was cradling him and the other dogs were just lying all around him like they knew. Even Tucker was, which surprised me, because Chico never really cared for Tucker, and Tuck knew it. But after Chico passed he curled up inside Chico's kennel and slept. We're all mourning my little guy.
RIP Chicoshico. He made it all the way from Chico, CA to Medford, OR to be with me. Barking little shit. Loved that guy. Ya still a blubbering mess.
