On December 10, 2010, I adopted a little white chihuahua from The Rohnert Park Animal Shelter in Sonoma County, California, where I lived. She was about 6 or 8 months old. Her mother had died in childbirth, leaving four little puppies, two white and two fawn. One of the puppies was already adopted when I visited the shelter. One of the little white puppies with little brown spots around her head and ears was the friendliest, so I picked her. She was named Freckles, appropriately, but I named her Minnie, after Minnie Mouse. 
I didn’t grow up with pets (just a short-lived canary aned goldfish), but I loved dogs. We had a basset hound (Dudley), and then a brown chihuahua (Coco) and a white maltese/shih tzu mix (Scamps) when I was married. When the marriage broke up, I took Coco and Scamps. Coco lived to 12 or 13; Scamps lived to 13, and I lost them both within months of each other.
Shortly thereafter, I tried out a midsize terrier who bit and then a pair of tiny chihuahuas (way to much work; I was teaching full time and my kids had left by then). And then I found Minnie.
As I have said, the kids had left by then. My son was living with his father, and my daughter had joined Disney on Ice and was traveling. I saw my son almost every week, and my daughter came home during breaks, but this was the first dog that was really just my own. That may be the reason Minnie never learned any tricks like the other dogs had; the kids were there to teach her how to spin in the air, shake, and speak. Minnie was not a great student. My daughter did teach her to sit, but she would only sit on carpet.
Minnie never liked toys. When she was little, maybe she would chase something once in a while, but she never brought it back. I bought her toys, but they were a waste of money. She was a good girl. She was easily trained to use the dog door. She didn’t chew things. She loved everyone, and everyone loved her.
She was also a healthy dog. While Coco and Scamps both developed chronic diseases when they were five or six, Minnie was a hearty one. When she was 9 or 10, she moved with me to Florida. She was probably 12 or 13 when she developed chronic bronchitis, but it wasn’t a real problem. Then, like most small dogs, she developed some degree of tracheal collapse, but it was never much of a problem. She was just a noisy sleeper and breather in her later years.
A couple of years ago, she started pacing around in large circles. Eventually, she paced more and more. She could still see, but her hearing seemed a bit diminished. Then, some months ago, she became partially incontinent, wouldn’t answer to her name, didn’t cuddle any longer — doggie dementia.
She was now fifteen. I talked to the vet a few months ago. Things got worse. I went online. I asked Chat GPT. The vet told me Minnie would make it hard for me. She wouldn’t die in her sleep. I would have to eventually make a decision. I made that decision this week. Minnie was no longer inside that cute little dog body.
Was it too soon? I asked my daughter. I felt guilty playing God. The vet would not tell me what to do. She told me most people regret waiting too long — not doing something too early. There are things to consider. Is Minnie suffering? Her back legs were giving in and were wobbly. She had trouble managing her food bowl, although I raised it. Dogs are stoic, but I am sure her arthritis was making her uncomfortable at the least. She wasn’t crying in pain. Why let it go on until she is crying in pain? Also, I, being her sole caretaker, was increasingly stressed and tired of cleaning the floors, closing the doors, taking her out frequently, worrying if I left her alone for too long. And it is always expensive to own a dog. All these things figure in.
I miss her. Minnie was a wonderful dog. The morning after, I was surprised to see her bowl and food mat were not there. I had forgotten I had no dog. Minnie is now ruling that Rainbow Bridge.
Memories of Minnie…
In California there was a greenway (not fenced) where a group of us would meet with our dogs in the morning. One day, when she was very little, she took off and ran all the way home, crossing two big streets. I was terrified,, but there she was waiting for me, safe and sound.
Two women who frequented our dog meetings at the park owned two HUGE, fluffy dogs, maybe Tibetan mastiffs. One was black and the other white. They were terrified of Minnie and would walk way around her if they had to pass her. It was hysterical. And the mastiffs’ owners thought so too.
My ex-husband once came to the door with his Great Dane. Minnie barked or snapped, and that Great Dane retreated in fear!
Minnie did have a bad habit. She barked at the television. At first, she would bark if she saw a dog on TV. Then, it was any animal. Then it was any animation. Then it was bright colors. Then, it was just anything at all. At one time I had one of those boxes that emitted a sound only Minnie could hear. It worked like a charm for a while. Then, suddenly, it worked on her no more. She barked at the TV until almost the end. When I took her to my daughter’s house, she would bark at the TV and then my daughter’s larger dogs would start barking. They didn’t know why, but since Minnie was barking…why not?
Minnie had a Santa hat and sweater, a yarmulke, and several other sweaters. She was quite a fashionista in her Santa outfit.
My daughter thought it would be fun to get Minnie some high tops. That did not go over well with Minnie, and we couldn’t get even one on her foot.
My house in California had two bedrooms (for the kids) and a bathroom upstairs. My bedroom and bath was downstairs. Minnie would of course go upstairs. Even when we didn’t want her to, and blocked the steps by putting pillows on the back of the sofa to block the spokes, she climbed up and went through the spokes and got up the stairs. But once the kids left, there was no reason for her to go up there. But I noticed that she would make trips up there on occasion. I didn’t give it much thought. There was nothing I needed to do up there. Finally, one day I decided to go up there. Well, what did I find? Apparently Minnie thought that since the kids were gone and not using their bathroom anymore, it was now hers. There was poop all over the floor from I don’t know how long! My bad.
If you have ever lost a pet, you know how painful it is. I hope Minnie is having a hell of a time up there with all her friends and relatives: Jack and Charlie and Coco and Scamps and Dudley and Baxter…and all the rest of them.
Love you always, Minnie
Leave a Reply