CONTENT WARNING: Pet Death (By old age)
My sister has severe asthma and allergies. When she was in eighth grade, she was sick a lot throughout the year and, as a result, was at the doctor’s office a lot. Another patient at the doctor’s office noticed how often she was there and got our phone number. She was a dog breeder and wanted to give my sister a chihuahua puppy because she swore they were good pets for people with asthma/allergies because “they can predict your symptoms and attacks!”
My sister and mom were skeptical, but we all loved dogs, so we weren’t going to say no to a “free” dog. (There was a stipulation that we could give him back if we couldn’t care for him.)
Several months later, the breeder’s dog gave birth, and a few months after that, the pups were old enough to go to their new homes, so the breeder called my mom to come pick him up. He was a cute little black and tan that my sister named Max.
On the day Max was brought home:
Dad: “He’s not allowed on the furniture. He needs to mostly be outside because I don’t want the house to smell like dog.”
Mom: “He can’t be left outside! He might wander into the woods and get lost.”
Sister: “Yeah! Or the hawks could eat him!”
Dad: “Okay, then we can build a fence, and he can be left outside at night.”
Me: “But then an owl might eat him.”
Dad: *Sighs* “FINE! He can stay inside, but y’all had better not let him on the furniture or let him do his business in the house.”
A few weeks later, we had Max mostly potty trained, and our dad had Max sitting on the couch with him, snuggled next to him.
Dad: “What? He likes sitting next to me to watch TV.” *Rubs Max’s ears* “He’s a good little dog, so he can be on the couch.”
A few months later, Max was sleeping on the pillow next to our dad’s head when our mom went to wake him up for breakfast one morning.
Dad: “He was obviously cold. It’s fine because he’s a good dog and deserves to be warm.”
Throughout the years, my dad doted on that dog like he was a child and always had a treat and a snuggle for that sweet little dog.
It got to the point that when my son was born and Max was jealous, he reassured Max that everyone still loved him, too. He held my son so that Max could sniff him.
Dad: “See? He’s just a baby. He’s a new person for us to love, but he won’t replace you.”
For eighteen years, that dog was my dad’s shadow. For eighteen years, he was my dad’s little buddy.
In early 2024, my sister had to have him put down and was heartbroken. Our dad was heartbroken, too, and buried Max himself. He was talking to my mom after having just buried Max on a cold day in January.
Dad: “It’s so cold out. Max hated the cold so much. I hate that he has to be out there in it.”
I had already cried for Max, but hearing my mom tell me how heartbroken my dad was over a dog that he hadn’t wanted in the first place, but had come to love so much, made me break down crying again.
Please, love your pets and give them a snuggle for me and my dad.
