My Soul Dog

This is my baby...he was my soul dog.

I got him from a "puppy mill" in Arkansas in the fall of 2009. He was 3 months old, born August 19. I was in a particularly sour marriage at the time, on the rocks...my son had just left for College a few hours away. I was lonely, I had my daughter, but she was always busy and not home all that much. He was Black and Tan, and after he was about one year old, he took on that silver/gold color. Floppy ears instead of the signature upright, pointy ears of other Yorkie's. His name was Scooter and I didn't change it. It suited him. We bonded immediately.

My kids were jealous (lol) and hated him all his life. But he was with me through it all...a horrible discovery no wife wants to find, a divorce, move, another shot at marriage, another move, another horrible discovery, yet another move, another sorrowful and devastating divorce. We moved again, an hour and a half away to my hometown where I moved in with my sister and her family...then I fixed up parts of my childhood home and we moved there. Took on a puppy, which I thought would be good for him because we had left a dog he had bonded so closely with. He wasn't happy with that...he was getting older, and just wasn't up for the puppy shenanigans. They did eventually bond, though. I was so happy for it.

Then, I decided I wanted to be near my grandchildren, so after some heavy consideration, I moved us to Texas, had NEVER lived in any other state but Virginia, so we moved halfway across the country, he was a trooper. My precious boy....

He was really happy here. He had bonded with Toby, we still had his kitty friends, he had a fenced in backyard for the first time in his life and was able to just run freely (any of you Yorkie owners know that they are escape artists and given any chance to run away, they will likely take it, just to RUN - I experienced those heart-stopping moments way more times than I want to admit). But he started slowing down...he didn't try to escape anymore, he needed doggie stairs to get on the furniture, when I put him in my bed at night, he didn't jump down anymore. He got cataracts, and started having trouble hearing. Now, we all know that Yorkies tend to be very good at selective hearing, but he had trouble even hearing me call him at dinner time. And then, I noticed him doing odd twitching. I brushed it off at first, thinking maybe he was cold or just settling down, but on that fateful morning, I was taking him to his grooming appointment, which he LOVED and truly felt like it was a spa day every time, but he seemed to seize. It scared me and I called the vet's office. They couldn't see him right away, and he calmed down, so I took him on to the groomer. I called a couple more times and they referred me to a "sister vet" because they just had no available time. I picked him up, all groomed and cute as a button like always, he was acting fine, jumping around doing his little smile, but he seized again. I took him on to the sister vet clinic. They did all the usual things, bloodwork, etc. and he was acting just like normal but did seize a couple more times while we were there.

The bloodwork came back and he was in kidney failure. My heart broke...shattered. I just sat there, bawling and holding him, they gave me his prognosis, he maybe had another month left, could MAYBE make it until after the holidays (this was Nov. 22, 2024, 4 days after my birthday). I went back and forth for probably an hour, they were so nice to me there. I was left to make a decision...no worse decision for your pet. She said his seizures would likely get worse and he would continue to decline. He was SO NORMAL...trotting around, prancing, his Yorkie thing...and I knew...I knew I couldn't bare to see him get to the end, I'd been through it with other pets. They told me I didn't have to decide that day, but inside my heart, I knew I had to. I knew if I took him home, I wouldn't make a decision and he would suffer. I said, "Let's let him go in peace and dignity"...and that was it. I held him, laid him on a comfy blanket they gave us for him to rest on. I held his arm and carressed him, laid my head next to him where he could see me and I sat there, encouraging him and telling him how much he meant to me, and what a brave boy he was.

And then he drew his last breath. I kept rubbing him and talking to him even after he was gone, I cried so much, I told him I'd see him again someday. And I went home. Numb. It's been 8 months and I still cry, I still dream about him, I still see pictures of Yorkies and my breath hitches...so you see, friend? I know...I know what it's like. I know how it is when your heart is broken and no one really seems to understand why or exactly what you're going through.

That's why I created this website and all of my social media accounts and why I will persist, I will keep posting content, I will create tools and resources, I will do what I can in honor of him and what he brought to my life...and what he took when he left. My heart just won't be the same again. As much as I love Toby, his companion in his late years, a mini bernedoodle, I can't love Toby the same way I did Scooter. I don't think my heart will ever be the same. I'll get another one someday...when I'm ready.

Won't you join my healing journey?