She barked incessantly from the balcony of our provincial home to catch our attention - a beautiful Japanese Spitz hiding underneath a coat of mottled fur, desperate for human love and attention. After losing nine dogs to the deadly canine parvovirus disease, I was vulnerable to all things yapping. I begged for my uncle to let us bring her home, and promised to take good care of her. Seeing how his niece was so smitten by the dog, how could he refuse?
Her cotton-soft, white fur earned her the name Snowflake. She was a meek and gentle soul, not one to senselessly and annoyingly yelp her balls off (not that she had any). Our extended family eventually grew, with the addition of a Shih-Tzu from a cousin, and a mixed breed of Maltese and Japanese Spitz from an ex-boyfriend (funny how the ex had to go, and the dog gets to stay). Snowflake was never the troublemaker among our brood of three mutts. She's always been the amicable, harmless, endearing ball of white fluff that everyone liked.
A few weeks ago, Snowflake developed a dog rash and lost a lot of fur. I live overseas so I only found out that she was suffering from the skin disease when I came home a few days ago. I was shocked to see my old girl in such a decrepit state. She was almost blind and half-deaf, but she struggled to get on her feet when she saw me. I was able to stroke and kiss her nose before she collapsed on the floor. My heart bled at the sorry sight of my dog who had inevitably fallen prey to old age. We took her to the vet but even the vet did not bother to raise our hopes that our little furball will make it. She died December 21st.
I hope you're getting the best Christmas dog chow in heaven, old girl. Woof in style like I taught ya.
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