Au Revoir, Petit Chou

Sometime after I got back from October, my dad called for a family conference call between him and all of us kids. He told us that Chou chou's condition, which we already knew was deteriorating, was growing quickly worse. She was already blind in one eye and sight in her second eye was failing quickly. Her sense of smell seemed to have been greatly dulled. She didn't seem to be hearing very well either. She hardly ate any food, preferring to lay out on the deck in the back yard in the sun. The consensus was unanimous--she needed to be put out of her misery. She'd lived almost 13 years and had been a wonderful dog, and we hated seeing her suffer. My parents didn't have to take that difficult step, because a few days later after I work, I got the text, "Chou chou passed away. More details in an email." When I got home, I found the following note from my dad in my inbox:

"Yes, Chouchou died peacefully this morning around 10:30 am.  I didn't want anyone to have to deal with it during the work or school day, so I held off until now.  She has slept most of the last three days and nights, almost without stop.  She never whimpered or 'fussed' about as if she was in pain of any kind.  This morning we found her sleeping on the marble entry floor.  She was still breathing when I checked her at 10:00 before coming up here to do some work.

We are all sad.  We have so, so many wonderful memories of great times with her!  She was a delightful pet, even through the wettings, etc., but never a bad dog or ill-tempered in any way.  We will miss her without a doubt.

I wrapped her in a sturdy blanket and buried her in the back yard.  I cleaned her cage, washed her bowls and took them to Goodwill.  The woman there asked me what happened to my dog?  I could hardly answer her.  It caught her by surprise to see an old man cry.

Love,

Dad"

Even though I'd been expecting it, it was still hard to hear. Chou chou was my personal dog--I got her when I was 13 years old. We picked her up on the day after Christmas. She was a birthday present, but wasn't able to leave her parents till then. She was the sweetest thing, who would never growl at you unless you tried to take away a her precious pig ears. She put up with just about everything, tailing pulling, ear tugging, from Collin when he was a little boy and then my nephew Chris. When people came over, she'd wag her tail so hard her whole back side wiggled. When her hair was long, she looked like a mop. We taught her commands in French (since Steph was taking french in high school at the time), such as "Vien ici" and "Levez-vous." She once jumped up on the dinner table, after we hurriedly left to get to play practice, and ate all of my mom's casserole. As she got older she had trouble going down the wooden stairs without slipping, and so would stay up there until someone came to get her. She loved to sleep with me and usually ended up taking over my pillow by the end of the night. Pretty much every day when my dad got home from work, he'd greet her by saying, "It's a good day to die, Chou" or "Death to small white dogs!" while petting her. I called her Chou, Ma petite Chou, and Chou poo magoo on the loo. I hope everyone gets to own a dog like her in their lifetime.

I'm going to miss my mop!