Four months and eight days after I lost his sister, Miki gave me the sign that he was ready to join his original pack. He was a chow hound to the end even though he struggled to sit up and happily devoured a McDonald’s cheeseburger and ice cream cone as a final treat.
Miki was the last of my original dogs, so his death is especially hard. He is entwined with all my memories of this house and neighborhood, and he was always my very good boy. Miki loved everyone (except for my former foster dog, Stinger), and he helped many shy foster pups blossom and find new homes.
One of my favorite Miki stories involves me accidentally locking him in my car when we were at the Austin Humane Society for training class. I was panicking, so one of the instructors convinced AFD to come out. Miki thought we were playing some sort of a game and stayed calm throughout the entire ordeal. When the firemen arrived he lit up; all these men had come to visit him (Miki loved men)! Overall, he loved the entire situation and recovered more quickly than me.
I called my little man Miki St Francis Scaife because he loved all the little creatures. He was always trustworthy with the cats, and Gabe, my oldest cat, began cuddling with Miki a lot after he lost use of his legs.
I’ll look for another dog eventually, but Patience and I will need some time to grieve plus Little Crazy needs a nice dumb boy dog who doesn’t mind her attitude. Right now my heart hurts; Miki was my heart dog, so I have a large hole he filled. I know he’ll be looking out for us for as long as we need; Miki’s love for me matched mine for him, which probably kept him going for so long.
I love you so much, Little Man, and even when I find another bed hog to watch TV with and cuddle, I will never forget you.