They say dogs don't have souls. In the Biblical sense, I agree with that. And there's so much poverty and pain in this world, the death of one little doggy probably isn't the most distressing event to dwell on, but . . .
Paco, my daughter's 14-year old short-hair Chihuahua, died in his sleep sometime the morning of 9/11/2008. When our daughter moved to Chicago on August 1st, both my husband and I wondered if we would see the "P-man" again.
His tenacity, joy and uniqueness will be missed by all who knew him.
Over the years his buggily eyes had begun to cloud. His pointed ears no longer heard the smallest sound. Yet Paco never tired of his need for cuddles or kisses on top of his adorable noggin, and his greatest joy, singing.
Singing was Paco's passion. His favorite song was from Handel's "Messiah"-the Hallelujah chorus. Sometimes he would climb into my lap, place a paw on my book or newspaper to push it down until he had my full attention.
Remembering the concentration in his eyes makes me laugh right now. If he could talk, he would have said, "I want to sing. Please, please, please." Really, it didn't matter that he wasn't created to talk, his eyes communicated just fine.
His favorite toy was a stuffed bear. He knew it as "Baby." And he stubbornly believed all blankets belonged to him. One of the characteristics of the Chihuahua is to burrow. Nothing was cuter than seeing Paco's shiny brown eyes peeking from the folds of my favorite afghan, while he hugged his Baby.
My daughter and her boyfriend buried our sweet little Paco in his favorite blankie, with his favorite toys. It's difficult to think that I wasn't there to say good-bye.
Paco, my little buddy, I'll miss you. Are you in heaven right now? Somehow I think you are. (There ARE horses there.) Maybe you're singing the Hallelujah chorus with the angelic choir. Maybe you're snuggling in the arms of our Creator. These days that's my favorite daydream.
Good-bye, Paco.
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