"dogs Are Not Our Whole Lives, But They Make Our Lives Whole.”

"Dogs are not our whole lives, but they make our lives whole.” -Roger Caras
I find myself thinking about this quote over and over again. It has been one month since Pipyn passed, my beloved Chihuahua. My mom always said Pipyn had nine lives. I adopted him from a no-kill shelter that saved him from euthanasia at the local SPCA five ½ years ago. At that point he had used two of his lives: one for the 5 years he lived before being found by the SPCA, and one when he was saved FROM the SPCA. I had him for a year before his third life was used up in a brutal dog attack he was able to survive because of his harness- had he been wearing a traditional collar I wouldn’t have been able to stop the dog from running away with Pipyn in his mouth by pulling on Pipyn’s leash without chocking my own dog. His fourth life was used when he was attacked by a neighbor’s dog a year ago at a neighborhood gathering. Luckily, the larger dog was leashed, which allowed Pipyn to get away without too much damage. Life number 5 came about 11 months ago when Pipyn got unexplainably sick. He was eating more than ever, but was loosing weight at an alarming rate. He lost over 25% of his body weight in 4 weeks. We took him to two vets, ran countless test, and we still could not pin-point what was wrong. When the vets couldn’t help us my mom, who is in the health care field, diagnosed his problem as inflammatory bowl disease, or IBD. We treated him as if that was what was ailing him, hand cooking him high protein low-fat organic food every meal. Within a few months he got his weight back, and a skip back in his step. Then, inexplicably, and violently, he got ill and died 24 hours later. Life number 6… We thought he had at least four more lives left. His loss has left a sudden and unexpected whole in my world, a grief that is so aggressive and forceful it knocks me off my feet and takes my breath away.
To me, Pipyn was this best-friend/child hybrid. I had a bond with him I have felt with only a few other people. My best friend and college roommate used to say “If Pipyn were drowning and I was drowning and you could only save one of us, you would totally save Pipyn!” I loved him more than I love most people, and I can’t explain how or why. Maybe it was the way he sighed when he would lie on my chest, nuzzling into me and looking up at me with an adoration he shared with no other. Maybe it was that he, who trusted precious few people after the trials and betrayals of his first five years of life, trusted me implicitly and completely. Perhaps it is the moment when I first saw him in that cage 5 ½ years ago, skinny and tired looking, he stood right up and did a series of tight joyful circles, circles he continued to do every time he’d see me until the day before he died. A part of the bond must stem from the place he held in my life; we wrote songs and poems about him, taught him countless tricks, and took him everywhere. He kept me company through three moves, heart break, and the terrors of graduate school. He slept with me every night, and greeted me with a sleepy wag each morning. He was this constant force in my life, this innocent and sentient creature that was always on my mind- his needs, wants, habits ingrained in my life completely. I can’t explain where this bond comes from, and how beautiful and powerful it can be. All I know is, there is a Pipyn shaped hole in my life and my heart… He was not my whole life, but he made my life whole.
I know this is longer than most posts, and I apologize for my verbosity. But I feel as though I’ve been carrying these feelings inside for the past four weeks with no one to share them with. When I found this site I just couldn’t stop writing. For those of you who have read this long winded love-letter to Pipyn, thank you. And to Pipyn, thank you for the years of laughter, cuddles, games, and endless joy. Love you Pip. Miss you so much it hurts.