Mickey

Mickey was my best friend from the age of 4 to 16. He was a gift from my Dad when I was sick with chickenpox. My dad was a dog lover too, and he was always finding homes for dogs in need. Mickey was a Chihuahua, who was just a few months old when my dad brought him home. We didn’t know his actual birthday, so we decided he and I would share a birthday. I loved sharing my birthday with that little guy.

My dad passed away when I was 7 and Mickey became a connection to my dad in addition to my best friend. He became my protector. If he thought someone was getting too close to me, he told them. He was my constant companion. The only place he didn’t go with me, was to school. If he had been allowed at school, I would’ve taken him with me. He was a source of strength, comfort, and friendship.

He was a good, sweet, super-patient boy. He tolerated all of the sweaters, t-shirts, hats, and boots I put on him. He never protested.

He accompanied me on my adventures around my grandparents’ property, never leaving my side as we wandered through woods and creeks. We were quite a team, Mickey and I.

In his final months he developed issues with instability and incontinence. His veterinarian confirmed a spinal tumor. We kept him comfortable as long as we could, but when we knew it was time, we let him go. We couldn’t let our little guy suffer. It was devastating. I couldn’t remember not having Mickey in my life since I was so young when my dad brought him home. I will be forever grateful to my dad for one of the greatest gifts of my life.