Ya, I know, 'it's just a dog'. This one was different. My wife bought this dog after her mom had died...about 6 years ago. We were still dating at the time. She had her own apartment, and I was living two hours away while I went to school.
I wasn't necessarily thrilled at the thought of her spending $500 on a teacup Yorkshire Terrier. Wasn't much for cutesy little dogs like that. Funny thing is as Twix grew up it became clear that he wasn't a teacup at all, so I guess the joke was on my wife. Things between us started off on the wrong foot. When he was just a few months old--the first time I met him--he laid a little 'present' all over my jacket (while I was wearing it). Stupid dog.
After my wife and I got married we moved into an apartment that wouldn't allow pets, so Twix stayed at my parents' house until we could buy our own place. We'd go visit often and he was always there waiting for us, and always gave us the saddest look when we left.
When we finally moved in to our own digs the first thing we did was fill in all the holes in the fence under the back yard. Twix had a tendency to dig his way out from time to time, though he was usually too lazy to venture very far. Actually lazy is an understatement. We'd take him for walks and about a block in he'd lay down and wait for us to carry him all the way back home. Lazy dog.
On the other hand he did like to play. Every time I'd walk outside the first thing he would do is grab one of his tennis balls or a stuffed animal that we got for him and wait for a session of 'fetch'. He never learned the rules though. I'd throw the ball, he'd get it, then he'd make me chase after him to get it back. Turned into 'keep away' 99% of the time. Silly dog.
I had mentioned before that Twix liked to dig, and after 3 or 4 successful escapes from the yard I decided to line the entire fence with chicken wire. This worked for a while, but he could still break through. I was planning on fixing it this past Saturday...
Friday rolled around and I got home at 5. No Twix. I took off to look in the usual places, but this time it was different. I couldn't find him right away like I always could before. We posted signs, placed an ad, called all the shelters, the whole nine yards. No dice.
My neighbors came over yesterday, and my wife and I both answered the door... "We found your dog, it's not good". He had gotten into the neighbors yard, and decided to try and fight their 100+ lb. plus dog. He lost. I think he always thought he was a pitbull or something.
I didn't think it would bother me this much. When he was first missing I thought "if he wants out that bad he can stay gone". After all he would bark all night long, he'd do his business on any tools that I'd set in the yard. He was always terrorizing the bug guy and electric company guy (if a 10lb. dog can really do such a thing). He'd have to basically be in my lap every time I wanted to sit down.
Turns out I miss all that stuff. Having to bury him yesterday was probably one of the most miserable experiences that I've had in a long time. I still expect him to be waiting for me outside when I get home, and that hurts the most. We always told him he was a bad dog, but the truth is he's probably the best dog I've ever had. He was there for my wife when she needed him. He was always there for me too. Good dog.