To All The Dogs I’ve Loved Before

On July 13th, 2011, the love of my life passed away. Her name was Devi and she was a little blonde deer head Chihuahua. Yes, the love of my life was a Chihuahua, and no I am not a crazy lady (well, maybe) and I have plenty of friends. I even have a significant other, I love him a lot but he came later. She passed away from a heart attack and died in my arms. She was 13 years old. About 7am that morning she let out a terrifying squeal. I knew the time was gonna come, she had been diagnosed with congestive heart failure, but I didn’t know the time was gonna come, you know? I woke up and grabbed her. She was gasping for breath, her head rising up and down as she tried to breathe. I ran out of the house wearing underwear and a tank top. I jumped in my car and drove that way too long, awful mile to the emergency room. By the time I got there she was brain dead and there I was without the love of my life standing in an animal hospital in my underwear. Nobody seemed phased by that fact; animal lovers. I had another dog, my best friend Pablo. He was 19 years old, a tea cup Pomeranian, black with a white snout. He looked exactly like a teddy bear. About two weeks after Devi, Pablo died. These pups were my family. They moved with me from place to place and slept in the nooks of my body for 13 years. They were rescues (people who buy from breeders or pet shops are unethical assholes). When Devi passed, Pablo stopped eating. He just stopped. He was blind, deaf, senile, walked in circles, bumped into things, but he was alive. When Devi died he stopped being alive. Pablo and Devi didn’t have a connection that was apparent to the human eye. They didn’t play tug of war or goof around. Their main form of play was Pablo trying to hump Devi and Devi, in turn, trying to hump him. When I went to the vet they told me that his kidneys were failing. Apparently this feels like a really bad hangover. I didn’t want my best friend to constantly feel like he was hungover. I put him to sleep. Each experience of death, of having them both die in my arms, was radically different. With Devi it was violent, it was jarring, it was cutting, it was fast. With Pablo, the vet doped him up and made his heart stop beating. It was gentle, he fell into a deep sleep and I held him as he passed away. Devi’s heart shattered as fluid filled up her lungs and she couldn’t keep breathing. Such different forms of heart break. With both I cried hysterically, the vet tech holding me each time, trying to calm me down and trying to soothe my heart, which was breaking, which in so many parts broke. I wrote the following in honor of my best friend and the love of my life. I wrote this so that they are remembered for all their quirks and glory. I wrote this so that my heart doesn’t just hurt where all the cracks remain. I wrote this because they were memorable and funny. I wrote this because they saved my life every day by just being there.

25 random things about Pablo and Devi

1. I got Pablo because I fell in love with a black Pomeranian named Clyde who I took care of for two weeks. I asked the owners if I could keep Clyde, but they said no. I needed to get myself a different black Pomeranian. I found Pablo in the want adds. He was owned by some massholes from Brockton. When he first came to the door he looked evil. He growled and barked and he was thin and they hadn’t bathed him so he had dingle berries on his backside. I didn’t want him, but I didn’t want to leave him with the massholes.

2. Turns out Pablo was a masshole himself. He was mean. He hated children. He bit people. He had a miraculous ability to find chocolate and come close to overdosing. Thank god for charcoal and hydrogen peroxide.

3. To fix this mean streak, I did what any sensible mother would do and I castrated him. This seemed to moderately fix the problem.

4. Truth is Pablo still had a mean streak, in fact he was a bitch. Once, a beagle behind a fence kept barking at him so he just peed on the beagle’s head.

5. However, Pablo was a loyal dog. He was a one person kinda dog. He loved me senselessly. He followed me everywhere, looking up at me saying, “Mom, where we headed next?”

6. He must have also had 9 lives. The first year I owned him, the brother of my boyfriend (at that time) took Pablo for a walk and let him off his leash. Not smart. Pablo jetted. He went from Jamaica Plain to Brighton. He crossed route 9 and Beacon St. This was in the middle of the night. Pablo was a tiny black dog running around the city of Boston having an incredible adventure and miraculously didn’t get hit by a car. I got a phone call from the Brighton Police at 4am. I had been in hysterics all night to the point that my ex almost slapped me. Pablo was safe. He was at the Police station. He was found in front of Whole Foods. He had diarrhea for a week. I brought the Brighton Police Department donuts the next day.

7. Pablo went on two more adventures like that.

8. Once a friend of mine took care of Pablo and overfed him turkey. In response Pablo developed colitis. Proving Pablo’s bitchiness once again, in a vengeful act in response to being given 8 large pieces of turkey and only being a 5lb dog, Pablo pooed all over my friend’s bed.

9. Pablo did become a truly sweet dog (I know you don’t believe me). When he couldn’t see or hear he just became sweet. I loved him so much that all of these stories I’m telling may be gross and unflattering but they made him all the more endearing to me.

10. Pablo had a collapsing trachea that made him cough. That cough sounding like a honking, a terrible, guttural honking that kept me up all night. Once he kept me up for four nights. This, along with other things, made me realize that I don’t want children. I enjoy my sleep.

11. Pablo liked it when my ex roommate rocked him like a baby. I was never very good at doing it.

12. I groomed Pablo and was damned good at it.

13. Pablo had the looks and attitude, but Devi was all personality.