Forever in my heart, forever and a day.

This morning, at just over sixteen years of age, my beautiful sweet funny Mitzi left God's waiting room and entered the meadows of the Rainbow Bridge.  She went gently, resting in my arms, secure in the knowledge that she had been loved her whole life.  She spent 12 wonderful years with my late cousin, Anita, and then graced me with four more.

I never expected to love her as deeply as I do.  I'd only met her once before she came to live with me, and never felt much draw to small frou-frou dogs.  But she belonged to my cousin, whom I loved very much, and this was one last gift I could give Anita before she died - the knowledge that Mitzi would always have a home where she would be well cared for, loved, and respected for the rest of her life.

Mitzi as a young pup at her Mama Anita's home

I don't think Mitzi was in my house for more than 24 hours before I was totally besotted with her.

She wasn't crazy about having fur siblings, especially not klutzy, crazy, bowl-her-over ones like Eddie.  But she survived him and the others by trying to keep out of their way, staying quiet, and never picking any fights with them. She got her one-on-one time with me on our walks around town, and occasionally on hikes with friends, though sometimes she hitched a ride part way.

Mitzi on the Crofton Sea Walk

Mitzi and friend Keeghan at Swallowfield

Pooped Pup

She loved her daily walks, even when she could no longer go more than a few blocks around town. The best part of walking, according to Mitzi, was sniffing - she loved to follow smells from one place to another, in the garden, along the seawalk, in fields, around the block.  Her nose was always leading the way - sometimes doubling back if she lost the trail.

Sniffsniffsniffsniffsniff

When she became the only dog in the house, after the others had passed away, her true spirit came out and I began to see the impish, playful, funny girl my cousin had so often told me about.  She chased me around the house, barked at me, puttered in the yard with me, accompanied me on vacations and horse-sitting jaunts.  In fact, she soon showed me that she especially loved being a farm girl, spending hours wandering the fields, checking out all the great smells.

The Li'l Cowpoke

Despite being a farm girl at heart, she also loved going to the groomers - a cowgirl luxuriating in a good massage and a pedicure. Whenever her fur became dirty, she sulked - becoming sulkier and sulkier until that magic day when we headed to her groomer for her monthly spa day. She returned a happy, lively, beautiful Princess.

She wasn't one for getting dressed up, despite being a princess, but she tolerated the occasional outfits I produced - hats and dresses and hallowe'en costumes, and came to love her red sweater which she wore constantly these past few months.

She struggled with her health for the past two years, as kidney failure took its toll and left her without appetite.  But a few days rest and a little medicine, and she would bounce back and once again run in the door from our walk, race down the hall, flip herself around and play bow to me, with a loud bark that declared "play with me, Mama Jean, play with me".  And the game would be on - around and around and around the house we would go, first one way and then the other - tiny eight pound Mitzi chasing me, and me chasing her, each hiding around corners and jumping out at the other, until she eventually stopped, panting, and headed for the water dish.

Mama, play wiv me!

Ha!  Dat waz FUN!

She was still playing her little game on her birthday mid-January, but a few days later, she stopped. In early February I called her vet and we re-ran her numbers and knew that the kidney failure had progressed to the final stage. And though she had bounced back many times before, this time she did not.  She stopped barking, she stopped chasing me, and a couple of weeks ago, she made it clear she no longer wanted to go for even short walks. Instead, she started asking for something she never in her life had been interested in - being held, cuddled, wrapped in a blanket on my lap for hours on end. She became weaker, yet every couple of days she would eat a little, or wander around the house looking for me, or sit on my lap watching me as I sang to her. She looked at me with her clouded eyes once dark black, and sank her wee head into my shoulder.

Ahm tired, Mama Jean, ahm very tired

I knew yesterday it was time.  It was in her eyes, and it was in my heart, though I did not want her to go.

I knew that she could see the Bridge, could see her Mama Anita, and my sister Carole who also loved her - they were watching for her, waiting for her, arms outstretched.

Ah think it's time for me to go now, Mama Jean.

And this morning,  surrounded with my love,  she raced across that meadow to them, barking and spinning and play bowing as she went.

Run free, my most special little girl. I'll love you and miss you forever and a day.