Mi chucho loco, I'm going to miss you so much. I'm going to miss how you were such a pain sometimes, how many times I've almost dropped a plate because no matter how hard it was to stand, you still followed me around. You're not going to be right behind me anymore, and you're not going to wake me up at night because you wanted to aimlessly roam the house. I'll no longer have to watch where I go in fear of stepping on pee, and the cat won't have to be careful with you because you were so grumpy.
You were so... OLD lately, and yet I never forgot the other things. I have cried in anticipation for this day, because you were my chuchillo, and you loved the hugs, and we've rolled around on the couch so many times, and you were so quick to learn the commands. I always thought we understood each other best, especially when your hearing was still good, and you were the prettiest mix of a poodle and a... terrier or something. That day you ran away from the doggie dresser, biting off the leash, crossing a big street -not before looking both ways and waiting for the cars to stop, as we were told- after which, to my bewilderment, arriving home before I did, was just another proof of how smart you were. Even if you were super dumb at times.
Just a few weeks ago, someone still thought you were just a puppy. That's how lively and healthy you've always been. And your eyes looked like you were wearing eyeliner.
My consolation is that we were there with you, and you died at home. The place is going to feel rather quiet now without your nails clicking on the wooden floor as if you were wearing tap-dancing shoes.
Te quiero mucho, Osquitar. Adiós. *kiss*