Shanyns' Pages...
Pecos
aka "The dog that wouldn't die"
The beautiful tribute below was written by my son Luke |
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February 1, 1995-October 10, 2009 Pecos first came into the lives of us Moneys in 1999. I remember my mother and I driving all the way from our humble (well, that’s one word for it) home in Bullhead City to some place called Flagstaff. At that time it was little more than a place to stop, pick up the two newest members of my family and have one of the best milkshakes of my life at the now-absent Perkins Restaurant chain. Pecos and his counterpart, Gomez, where the third and fourth entries into our burgeoning Chihuahua Clan, a tangible result of my mother’s involvement in the Chihuahua Rescue Team (an involvement which would lead to her and I taking a trip to Baghdad, AZ, which is without a doubt the scariest place I have ever been to, but that’s a story for another time). At the time, there was no doubt of the Pet Pecking order. Gopher, our first and oldest Chihuahua, was mom’s dog and really the only one out of four who could be considered a “good dog.” Skittles, the youngest, was mine- no doubt a result of our similarities (we were both the youngest, ran all the time, and shed hair like nobody’s business). Pecos and Gomez were, at the time, unknown entities, though after a time it became painfully clear why we would call Pecos “Poo” for the rest of his life. He was a terrible dog. Neurotic, disobedient, shrill (even by Chihuahua standards)…there was no doubt in any of our minds that, if any of them had to go, Pecos would be the one. Ten years later, as we stood together in the appropriately named “Comfort Room” at Canyon Pet Hospital, there were no words to describe the grief we all felt as Pecos left us. And there still are none. Pecos was not a good dog. Those same characteristics that made us doubt him remained, and in some cases worsened, throughout his life. But he was our dog. He was our friend. He was a member of our family a family which, though prone to argument and misunderstanding sometimes, loves fiercely, and Pecos was no exception. As I sit here, feebly attempting to write this, I come to an impasse the likes of which I have never faced before in my writing “career.” How can you put into words feelings so intense, so deep-rooted, that they move an entire family to the brink of uttermost grief? How can you describe the depths of love for a pet who, despite all his shortcomings, was ceaselessly loyal and loving to the very end? How can one condense ten years of memories into mere sentences? The short answer? You can’t. And I don’t mean to attempt to. Pecos was my dog. My family’s dog. Our dog. For over half of my time on this Earth he was with me, sharing with me my triumphs and comforting me in my trials. Always tender, always caring, always annoying but, above all else, always loving until the very end. We love and miss you, Poo. |
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This Page Maintained By Shanyn Money
Last Updated: Friday, 16 October 2009