The benefit of this being my blog, is that I can write whatever I want to here. Usually, I try to post relevant content, but today I’m going to be selfish and introduce you to my dog.


Fresh from the groomers!

We first met Chi when she lived with my brother-in-law. She wore a little purple argyle sweater vest, and demanded belly rubs from anyone who held her. I saw her one time. Then, about a year or so later, I got a message from my spouse. “Hey we have a dog now by the way.” 

It turns out his brother sent a mass text asking if anyone wanted to take her. I was given no choice in the matter, and honestly that was for the best.

At the time, we lived in a small loft downtown with the tiniest “dog park.” Since she was a 12 pound Pomeranian everything fit her perfectly. 

Early Days

She was much more spry in her younger days.

Her ridiculous enthusiasm about everything caught our attention first.

She got so excited about drinking water, she kept knocking over her water dish. Over the weekend, we cleaned it up immediately. We worked all day, however, and we kept coming home to a thirsty pup. We ended up getting her an over-sized hamster bottle to attach to the side of her kennel. It took her several hours to figure out how to use it, with constant guidance and some peanut butter incentive. Eventually she figured it out. As a…bonus?…it made it easy to keep track of her fluid intake as it was the loudest drinking vessel ever.

This enthusiasm also earned her a nickname. When she wanted to sit with us on the couch, she needed to jump to get on top of it. However, instead of jumping straight up like any other dog, she would back up all the way to the other side of the apartment and run as fast as she could. A streak of orange fluff shot across the room and dove right into our laps. Most of the time. Sometimes she bounced off the side, just to try again.

We likened this to a torpedo, which morphed into a “tor-Chi-do” and then finally to what I call her to this day: Chi-do.

Smarter Than She Looked

This is Chi-do trying to get unstuck from under the couch. I call this shot: ACTION CHI-DO.

This dog looked stupid. With her stupid face, and her wall-eyed gaze, and borderline crazed smile, she appears to have zero clue as to what went on around her. Until she noticed your habits.

She knew that whenever the receiver clicked (whether when we stopped watching TV at a respectable hour or if it was at 3 in the morning when I was on a video game binge) that she would be going out immediately after. 

She knew that the clinking of plates meant food.

She knew what the ziploc bag that held bacon sounded like, and would respond to no other plastic bag sounds.

She knew that we were lazy enough that when we put shoes on and it wasn’t in the morning to go to work, that we were most likely going to be walking her soon. 

She knew that it wasn’t me that typically walked her in the morning, so if I got up before my spouse, she wouldn’t bother me, and wouldn’t bother him until he got out of the shower.

She knew that if you said good-bye to her before you left, you were going to be gone longer than just a literal second, so she wouldn’t bother barking until you got back. She also knew approximately what time to expect each of us to come home during the week, and got very grumpy when we were late. She wanted, as much as possible, to keep the pack together. 

And now the pack will never be together again.

The Best Dog

…sorta. She wasn’t actually a very good dog, to be fair. She was a terrible running buddy, never played with toys, was only willing to roughhouse a little, didn’t do a lot of tricks – or if she learned them, promptly forgot them. But she was my favorite dog, and one of my family. 

We’re very lucky to have known her, and there will never, ever be another like her. I’m glad I got to spend some extra time with her over the past few months, even if it was due to the apocalypse. It was worth it to see her happy.

And I’d burn it all down to get her back.