My best pet lives with me now. She is a small black and tan Chihuahua-Terrier mix who came into my life seven years ago when my wife, Violet, and I lived in Hawaii. Her real name is "Mimi," but she is "Baby" to me.
Violet and I lived in a rural area about 15 miles outside Hilo on the Big Island of Hawaii. We would walk down the dirt road past our house each morning for exercise. One morning, this little dog slipped under the fence of a neighbor's house about a half mile from our house as we walked by. She accompanied us on the remainder of our walk and came home with us.
For the next several days, it was a contest of wills as Violet and I attempted to return her to her rightful owners, and she would promptly come back to our house, making it clear that this was her new "adopted" home. Finally, my wife and I both lost and won as we lost the contest, and won her as our new pet. Her old owners recognized the futility of this tug of war, and agreed that she belonged with us.
She moved right in, making herself at home, and almost instantly became a companion with our existing pet, Charley, a male Chihuahua. She is truly a member of our family. When we moved from Hawaii to The Villages, both dogs accompanied us and very quickly became 4-legged "Villagers."
Baby is part of my life and my heart. I have never been loved as completely as she loves me, and have never had a canine companion that even comes close to her in terms of intelligence, involvement with our family, and importance in my life. Now, I am 71 years old, and she is 11, and -- if I am lucky -- we will both end our journey together and cross that "Rainbow Bridge" side by side.
Bill
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