In Memoriam

On Monday night, around 9:30, my mom called to tell me that Chris, our dog of 12 years, had been put down. This was the final blow in a whirlwind 36 hours, which started Sunday afternoon when my father told me that little Chris hadn't been doing so well, and was being taken to the vet on Monday. "You might want to prepare for the worst," he told me. I was shocked. When I had been home for Christmas only a month ago, he had been fine. A little old and grumpy, but seemingly perfectly healthy. As I prepared for class on Monday, I tried to "prepare for the worst" but simply could not do it. How could my little trooper dog die?

For those of you who didn't know my little Chris, he was truly a trooper. When I was in sixth or seventh grade, my mom ran him completely over with the minivan- I'm talking the wheel going completely over his tiny Westie body- and, after a surgery that split him open from chin to groin, he was fine. As in, alive and totally back to normal. That almost isn't right, for a dog that small to live an accident like that. But my Chris was special. Then, my freshman year of college, my brother left out about half a pound of Valentine's Day chocolate, which Chris of course got into. Everyone knows that chocolate is like poison for dogs, and since Chris was only about 15 pounds at the time, half a pound was enough to put him under. But, yet again, he pulled through, after spending the night vomiting and pooping all over my brother's bedroom. After that night, he was perfectly fine. Last year, he had a cyst on his eye that had to be removed, but he tolerated it with infinite patience and calm. He was fine after that too.

I guess that it is because of all these incidents that I truly believed this little West Highland White Terrier could never die. He was so spunky, full of life and energy; he was always so happy to see one of us he never really seemed to get any older. But alas, he was old-12 years-when the life expectancy for a Westie is only 11. Last week he started having trouble breathing, and when he was taken to the vet on Monday, they told my dad that he had fluid in and around his lungs and heart. Once the fluid was drained, they saw that he had a cancer on his heart, and the only real option was to put him down.

I have to keep telling myself that at least he is no longer in pain. He was the greatest dog a girl could have. He loved to run around the house, bark at deer and squirrels, look outside from the top of the chair next to the window, and cuddle with my mom. I loved to hold him, walk him, scratch him behind his ears (I will always secretly maintain that he liked my scratching the best of anyone in the family). He was the cutest, kindest, most loving dog I've ever witnessed, and he will be greatly missed.

Here's to my widdle Cwissy. <3