Today my dear baby, Tiny, passed away. He was old--we estimate about 17 years old, though we're not sure. I still remember the first time I saw his little face. I'd gone to the local animal shelter in Colorado because I just felt that I needed a little dog of my own. I looked at all of the dogs there, and though they were all precious, I didn't feel like I'd really found the right dog for me. Then John caught my attention and pointed to the upstairs landing. Peeking his tiny, heart-shaped face out between the banisters was Tiny--the cutest dog I'd ever seen. He just looked at me with fearful, hopeful eyes. John brought him to me and the instant Tiny was in my arms he fell asleep just like a baby. He knew he was home. I loved everything about him...his right ear that bent a little, his teeny little paws with the fur between his paw-pads, his skinny little tail, his big brown eyes, his one tooth and his sweet personality, that had just a little bit of grit. He became my baby, at a time when I needed a little pet to love and comfort me. He was always happy to see me, running up and down our stairs in Colorado, sleeping as close as he could to me, doing his little hop into my hand when I came over to pick him up, and growling at Dusty--our 110 pound Labrador. He followed me everywhere and loved to be held. Sometimes I'd just walk around the house, carrying him in my left hand, while doing housework with my right hand. I would sometimes sneak him into the movies in a blanket, which cracked up our kids. I loved wrapping him in his little blanket and taking him with me in the car as I ran errands. Everywhere we went people loved Tiny. I have never seen a cuter dog, and I really loved that little guy. In one of my first posts for this blog I wrote that "Tiny and I needed each other." This is more true than I can express here. John reminded me today that Tiny's vet had only expected him to live a few months, because he was sick and underweight when we adopted him. In fact, in the 3 1/2 years that we had Tiny, at least three different vets told me I should have him euthanized, because they thought he wasn't going to make it. I just knew that he still had some life left in him, and he did--he just kept going, and lived a happy, healthy life right up to the end, when his little heart finally just got tired and gave out. He was never in pain, and I was blessed to be able to hold and love him right up to the last breath he took--I am so thankful for those last few tender mercies at the end of his life. I'll miss you so much, Tiny. Thank you for being such a wonderful little buddy.
Kisses, Jenn
