Oil on canvas, 12”x12”

Pretend it’s December, 2016.

Yesterday, my husband was a little surprised when I declined to go to the gym with him in the morning.

"That's okay," I said. "I'll go later in the day."

He looked at me quizzically.

"It's the puppy," I said. "She likes to sleep in the morning. It's the only time I can get anything done. Once she wakes up around 11:30, she'll be up for almost the rest of the day, and she'll be very interested in playing with me the entire time."

He shrugged and said, "you wanted a puppy."

That's his new line. It's actually pretty funny because it's true, I did want the puppy. In fact, he had almost no say in the matter whatsoever. A few days after our beloved Piggy died, we found ourselves driving 45 minutes to the Humane Society "just to look" at a puppy I saw on their website.

"Let's just go look," I said. "I just want to look, I promise. It will help us feel better."

We both knew this wasn't true and that I wanted a lot more than "just to look."

Four days prior, we were tasked with the devastating responsibility of putting our beloved chihuahua, Piggy, down. Never in our worst nightmare could we have ever envisioned having to do something like that. But there we were, in an emergency animal hospital, listening to the veterinarian tell us that there were no other options. She left the room to give us some space. As we waited, my husband cried and said that there was no way he could be in the room with her when it happened. The vet came to take her. She asked if we wanted to be there when they put her to sleep. At the same time I said "no," my husband said "yes." I looked at him questioningly. "It's the least I can do," he said solemnly. "Look at her, she's so comfortable." And she was. According to the staff, she had not been comfortable at all the night before during her stay at the hospital. And if it was anything like the last week, where I spent every night awake with her, holding her, trying to comfort and cradle her, all to no avail. She wanted to move, but couldn't figure out how to operate her little body. She wanted to walk, but only walked in sharp circles if she could even stand at all. She wanted to sleep but was too restless. It was a nightmare, sitting up late at night, holding her through those times. And now I was looking at her, comfortable and nestled in my husband's arms; she had even begun to snore, and was not restless at all.

I could not let my husband do this alone so I reluctantly followed him into their "room of death." Which was a very peaceful room actually, with calm lighting, carpet, couches, a private exit, and who knows, maybe they had music going as well, but I didn't notice. They left us alone in that room with Piggy to say goodbye. I sat on the couch in complete shock as I watched my husband sob uncontrollably and tell his little Piggy over and over again how much he loved her. The only thing I knew to do was take some final pictures and I even had the balls to videotape this interaction between them, (without his knowledge or consent, of course).

I won't get into the rest. It's too painful. I'm already sobbing just writing this. I'm still not over it. The entire experience was too painful. The events leading up to it were too painful and the events in the immediate aftermath were too painful.

The next day, my husband and I spent walking around several different malls in the valley. Why? Because I wanted to see some puppies. Because we were in shock. Because we needed to walk. We needed to get out of the empty house. We needed to do something we've never done before. We are definitely not mall people. But my reasoning of just wanting to look at puppies, drove us to three or four malls. My poor husband was in complete shock, too devastated to fight me for once when I had one of my crazy ideas. We ate Panda Express at the food courts. I never eat Panda Express. Some of the malls didn't have puppies but we walked their 'streets' anyway.

I forced him to start looking at puppies online. To my dismay, he found a toy chihuahua site, and was looking at $10,000 dogs. I could see it was making him feel better though so I went along. I found a more affordable site: The Arizona Humane Society. They also had some really cute chihuahuas to look at, although not quite as spectacular as the ones my husband was looking at.

"We should go look at these dogs at some point," I said. I handed him my phone whenever a cute chihuahua showed up on their site. He wanted to look at his $10,000 dogs though. "She was so beautiful," he said. "I know," I responded. And she was. Piggy was one of the most beautiful and photogenic dogs I've ever had. One top of that, she had the most explosive personality of any dog that I've ever known. There would be no replacing her and I knew this. But we would be getting another dog, this I also knew. Not only did I need one, not only did my husband need one, but my dog Sammy, Piggy's best friend, was also in complete shock. A couple days ago, his best girl was here. And now she wasn't, and he began spending his time just staring at the wall. It was scaring me. It took four days of badgering to convince my husband to just "take a look". We were planning on going to a completely different Humane Society, when this cute brown chihuahua popped up on their website (which I checked every hour). Instinct kicked in and I switched locations.

"Let's go here instead." He shrugged. He was just going through the motions. He was so lost without his little Piggy.

Once we got there, we made our way through a ton of people (they were having a big sale on older dogs). I kept asking him which way we should go and he responded the same, "how am I supposed to know? I've never been here." Big dog after big dog, barking, smelly, loud, and crowded. I turned a corner. I saw a glassed in case with two tiny, light brown chihuahuas curled up in the middle. "That's her," I exclaimed in wonderment. Once we got closer, her brother began barking like crazy. She laid still. He was so protective of her. I stuck my finger in a crack and she softly licked it as her brother tried to kill me. I found one of the workers, and they grabbed her and took us into a special room. I held her, then my husband held her. She put her head on his shoulder and didn't move. He stared at the wall in complete sadness. I took a picture of this moment. She was so sweet and docile. He was so sad. The next thing I knew, we were driving home with her.

My husband continually asked me to check the website to see if her brother was still here. If he wasn't adopted in a week, we were going to drive back and get him as well. He ended up getting adopted (THANK GOD because I had forgotten how much work puppies are, and her brother didn't seem to be my biggest fan while we were there).

Here we are today, two months later. My husband recently disclosed that he will soon be attempting to steal my puppy away from me. Right now she sleeps nestled with me. Right now, I'm her caretaker, but if I know anything about my husband, he knows how to steal your dog away from you, and he'll do it. He did it with Piggy. This is a good sign. This means his heart is opening up once again. Piggy will never be replaced, but soon, he'll be ready to fall in love with another little angel.

Until then, I won't be going to the gym in the mornings, I will worship any safe dog bones that keep her occupied for longer than 15 minutes, and if you see her sleeping..... shhhhh.....don't wake the baby.

"You wanted to get a puppy," he says, knowing full well he'll be luring her away from me soon with treats, love, and chicken. "I know," I say, excited, and ready to see him love again.