My Little Yorkie

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One day, my beloved daughter brought me this little Yorkie. She didn’t look very healthy, but she looked me in the eyes and I fell in love with her.

Loretta got her from an older lady that really never watched her well. She had a room for her with papers all around and two big bowls. One for water and one for food. She left her there for days and days.

We took her to a vet, who advised us not to take her in because she wouldn’t live more than a few months. But I took her in. She became my sweetheart.

She had not felt grass before; she loved it. She got small plates with a little food that she liked. I could see how happy she was and how healthier she became.

I took her everywhere with me, to the park, movies, restaurants, visiting family and nice places. She was so good. I had a small stroller for her and a sling if she wanted to be carried. She was my support dog. In many ways, I needed her as much as she needed me.

I had her for 10 1/2 years. She lost all her teeth, later her eyesight and then she couldn’t hear anything anymore. Then she fell down the stairs on our vacation in Canada and she got worse.

One night she sat next to me on the couch. I held her and cried, but by morning she got a little better. After a few weeks, she was with me in my bed with a blanket over her and mine too. But she felt cold, so I held her close, praying and getting sad.

In the morning, I called my daughters and they both came over. All three of us were with her; she didn’t leave my sight on the couch. She never licked much, but I felt her little tongue on my upper leg.

Oh God, let her stay with me a little longer! But by 6 p.m. the girls went home and Honey was still barely alive. Two hours later, she felt so cold again and she almost stopped breathing. I was so immensely sad, I called the girls and they came back, but she had already died.

How can I feel so sad and grief-stricken? I lost my father, mother, three sisters and two brothers. I was with them and I was very sad, but I knew where they were going and that I will see them again some day.

But my Honey, she was as much my angel as I was for her. You might think, “But she’s only a dog!” I know, so why am I so down and depressed? I had a very hard time with it. I cry for two days every time I think, see or here about her.

We buried her and prayed for her. I sat at her grave almost four hours and I’m still heart-broken. That’s why I’m writing this, so my Honey knows how much she mended me.

Maria Zeeman is a member of the writing class offered through the Cerritos College Adult Education Program. It is held off-campus at the Norwalk Senior Center.

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