My little dog - a heartbeat at my feet.
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Oh, my sweet, fuzzy, feisty Fiona. It’s been 3 days since you left us, and still I can’t quit crying… We all loved you passionately, and I know there’ll never be another quite like you.
We brought you home just over a year ago after you were bought completely on a whim. I was browsing the pet ads on KSL, surely a whisper from God, and ran across your picture which I showed to Daddy.
“Call them now!” he said, so I did. That was the best call I ever made.
Braden and I jumped in the car and drove over an hour to meet you. Completely smitten, we brought you home. The people we bought you from were your second owners, and we became your fourth. Apparently they had sold you to someone else who returned you after a few days, saying “this dog won’t ever socialize.” They warned us about this, afraid we would do the same.
You’re the same mix as our beloved Annie – part Cavalier Spaniel and part Shih-tzu, but you looked and acted completely different. Feisty from the get-go, you were never a cuddler. Life held too many adventures for you to stay in one spot for too long! Totally a people lover, you’d make sure to spend your time with one of us at all times, pausing occasionally to perch against a leg, gazing at us with those big chocolate eyes, your saucy grin, getting a quick love, and then romping off to the next great adventure.
I miss the way you pretended you couldn’t get up on the couch or the bed. You’d act all pitiful and helpless until one of us would finally give you a hand, only to jump down again two seconds later to go check out something else.
If doggies have ADD, I’m sure you had it!
Imagine my surprise when I saw you jump up on our bed the first time when you thought no one was around. After we got the new mattress pad, it really was too high, so from then on I had to always lift you up. You’d sleep with Savannah every night until about 5:30 a.m., then you’d come in to be with us. You had the funniest little way of “talking” to us – not really a whine or a bark – so you’d come around to my side of the bed and let me know what you wanted. I’d lift you up and wait for you to finish your little ritual: find an open spot somewhere near me, twirl in circles roughly 27 times, then BAM! You’d throw yourself against me. Sometimes that didn’t seem to work, so you’d start all over again – circle, circle, circle, THROW! – finally ending the process with a satisfied sigh.
I could go on and on with many memories and things I love about you, but honestly, my heart (and poor, weepy eyes) can’t take any more of this walk down memory lane at the moment. You may not have fit with the other families you were placed with, but for us, you were the world.
Your people mommy