On Friday afternoon, January 30th, our Little Dog passed away. The following words and pictures are my way of remembering and saying goodbye.

We always say that we found Charlie and Little Dog found us. He came into our lives one evening 5 years ago as I was walking Charlie, who we’d adopted from the shelter about a month prior. We walked up to our house and I noticed a little brown dog across the street and no one around. Even though Charlie was barking like crazy, the little dog walked over to me. He had no tags. If you know me, I am always willing to help a lost dog.

I put Charlie away and walked the little dog around the neighborhood, knocking on doors, and asking if anyone recognized him. We posted signs everywhere, Craigslist, Petfinder, and took him in to check for a microchip — there was none. One of our friends who lives nearby said they thought they recognized him and that the owners might have moved away and left him. I still don’t understand how people can do that. We started looking for a home for him as we were (or so we thought) a single dog family and we were trying to keep our home shedding-dog free. But he was pretty sweet so we did not mind holding on to him while we found him a good family. We called him “the little dog” as we did not want to give him a name because we all know how attached you get once you name them. He was so sweet, he LOVED to cuddle, and he really seemed to calm Charlie down, who was suffering from separation anxiety whenever we left the house.

He cried when we tried to crate him overnight, so it wasn’t long before he was sleeping in our bed too. He was with us for a few weeks when we found three different people that wanted to adopt him. BUT by that time, we’d fallen in love. We decided to keep him in our family and the name “Little Dog” stuck. I bought him his collar, got him vaccinated and microchipped, and it was official. Little Dog was ours.

Not more than a few days after we decided to keep him, he suffered a terrible seizure. It happened at night right before bed and I was terrified. We took him to the emergency vet, and they were able to calm him down and explained that this epilepsy would simply be a chronic condition. It happens in small dogs sometimes, they told us. Every time I think about that, I wonder if his previous owners had left him because of it. The seizures still happened every now and again, but whenever they did, we held him close, spoke calmly, and gave him lots of love until it passed. I believe that was why he found us. He just needed some love in his life.

We always joked that Little Dog was our grumpy old man. We joked that his “time on the streets” made him a little rough around the edges. We didn’t really know exactly how old he was, but he did lose a few teeth and his fur was going gray. His grumpiness was certainly a characteristic of his. He’d bark and/or growl at you when you came in the door, but then a few minutes later he’d be curled up in your lap. We thought he must have been exposed to violence in his past, perhaps specifically by children. He hated to see anyone hitting anyone else. He was really afraid of young kids. What is interesting is how is relationship with Bear had developed in the short 13.5 months they shared together. When Bear was a little baby, Little Dog would sometimes come cuddle up next to him. Where Charlie didn’t really want anything to do with Bear, Little Dog didn’t mind him too much. As he grew, Bear was really good with Little Dog. He’d pat him on the back and I was just teaching how to “pet” by stroking Little Dog down his fur. Little Dog would grumble, but was tolerant. I know if Little Dog had a few more years with us, they’d be best buds.

Charlie and Little Dog were best buddies. They didn’t quite get along at first, but they grew to love each other. Charlie is an escape artist and Little Dog was his shepherd. Or maybe you could just say they were partners in crime. Whenever Charlie managed to find his was through a hole in the fence, Little Dog would follow him, as if to make sure he didn’t get into too much trouble. Sometimes when Charlie got out, Little Dog would come up to us and pace and whine, letting us know something was wrong.

He never learned many tricks but he could sit and “dance”. He never took off when he was off leash, he’d always stay nearby. More than anything Little Dog was a sweetie and a cuddle bug. If there was a lap available, he was always in it. He was always the one to love a warm body to cuddle up next to. He was notorious for sleeping right in the small of our backs or nuzzled in between our legs at night. Together we got to go hiking and camping and had plenty of fun park and walking adventures.

He’d been diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure a few months ago and we’d been trying to counteract the symptoms with medication, but his little cough had persisted and become worse over time. On Friday morning, I noticed the cough was getting really bad. I gave him his pills and got ready for the day. Geoff had left really early, before dawn, to go hiking with a friend. As I got ready to take a shower, both Charlie and Little Dog were sitting on our bed, and I gave Little Dog a worried sigh as I pet him gently. I knew in my heart we might be getting close to the end. I took a few photos of Little Dog on my phone. That very first photo above is the last photo I ever took of him. I ran errands with Bear and came home to make some yard sale signs. Little dog was moving around, but to random spots where he would just stand and wheeze. I tried to make him a comfy spot on the couch but he just wanted to follow me back into the other room. He stood in his favorite sunny spot in the dining room while I made yard sale signs. Bear woke up from his nap and I made us some lunch. As I was eating, Little Dog walked over to me and noticed pinkish fluid dripping from his mouth. I immediately scooped him up, carried him over to the couch, and sat down with him on my lap. Once I sat, he took only two or three more labored breaths before letting out a long final breath. I felt the weight of his head on my arm and knew he was gone. I’d been preparing myself mentally for his death for some time now. I knew he would not be with us for more than maybe another year. But the reality of what just happened, literally in my arms, hit me like a ton of bricks. The emotion that escaped me in that moment was the most real thing I’ve felt since Bear was born. I cried out in agony, screaming, and sobbing. He was really gone. Once second here, the next gone forever. Geoff was not home, but he was on his way. I called him and told him what happened. Saying those words to him was so hard. Geoff was being so strong and supportive to me on the phone. I know how hard that must have been. When he finally got home, we hugged for a long time, and cried together. We decided to have him cremated, but before Geoff took him to the vet, we make a plaster impression of his little paw print. It is in the shape of a circle and his collar fits around it perfectly. We are so glad to have that little memento of him to keep with us.

I already miss him so much. Since he died, things had been SO busy, until last night, when it could all really sink in. Wrapped in Geoff’s arms, I cried myself to sleep. Goodbye, Little Dog. You were our “little buddy” and we’ll never forget you. I’m sure doggy heaven is filled with lots of warm laps.