A tribute from your Mama to the bestest, sweetest, most handsomest weenie dog ever...
I am so very thankful that I let my girls talk me into getting a little dog even though I didn’t want one. I like big dogs. You thought you were a big dog. We will never forget the day that you waddled into our lives looking like a fat lil smokie and stole our hearts. Thank you for loving us unconditionally through good times and bad no matter what. You loved and supported us through divorce, surgeries, deaths, moves, job/school changes and so much more. You celebrated birthdays, holidays, and graduations. You were such a happy little guy that everyday was a celebration with you.
You loved life! You were so happy spending time with your family and doing your favorite things: belly rubs in the sun, digging holes bigger than you, napping, snuggling, burrowing under the covers, couch time, scratching your back, scooting around on a rug after a bath and telling Mama when it was time to wake up, eat, and go to bed. You loved riding between Mama’s back and the seat when she was driving, visiting Mee-Maw and hanging out in her recliner and the chair at her kitchen table. You were a big foodie and loved your chicken and rice, pumpkin, apples, bananas, carrots, peanut butter, pup cups, doggo treats, and well, anything edible. You always knew to hop in the driver’s lap for a snack at any drive through.
You were always so smart and tricky. You could operate on your toys and remove the squeakers through the smallest hole with great precision like a tiny surgeon. Some of your other special talents included standing on your hind legs for long periods of time even though we told you it was bad for your long back and jumping higher and further than you should have considering you were only about six inches tall.
One of our favorite stories to tell is how you somehow got on the counter and ate almost an entire Mississippi Mud Bundt Cake that we won at a church cakewalk. Either it didn’t contain much actual chocolate or you were immune to chocolate toxicity, because you looked like you swallowed a barrel, but you didn’t even get a tummy ache.
You were a little escape artist and enjoyed running free through the pastures, woods, and down the road with us crying, praying, and trying to track you down. You sure could cover a lot of ground for a guy with itty bitty legs. You always came home with that innocent look on your sweet face like “No worries guys...I was just sniffing out some stuff.”
You loved traveling all over the country with us for cheer competitions, horse shows, rodeos, road trips, and family vacations. You went where we went and visited about ten different states. I’m so thankful that we made that trip to Cocoa Beach last June and you got to run in the sand, dig in the sea oats, and dip your little toes in the ocean.
Thank you for spending your last couple of years trying to teach your brother, Brutus, how to tap into his weenie dog half. We know you weren’t quite finished with the training, but at least he knows how to follow Mama wherever she goes, burrow under the covers, dig big holes, and fuss when he wants something.
I will miss your horrible breath, your soft ears, your cute little fat feet, and the way you looked at me like I was the most important person in the world. Thank you for being such a good bubby to your girls, Chloe and Claire. All of your people miss you. Your pack misses you: Mocha, Tuck, Brutus, and Kota. I’m sure Scooter and Little Red Roxie were waiting at the Rainbow Bridge. You were only 13 pounds, but you sure took up a huge place in our hearts and our lives. You were my baby, my shadow, my friend. Rest in peace, Oscar Mayer. You were so very loved.
