
My Chiquita died on Tuesday, Oct. 6. Maybe it's silly, but I am broken hearted to the extreme. She was fine Monday, and then Tuesday morning, Abel wakes me up to tell me she can't breath. I go to her, and we decide to take her to the vet. But I pick her up and she dies in my arms. Almost as if she is suffocating to death. She can't stop gasping and opening her mouth trying to suck in air, and nothing. I hate that. I hate that those are my last memories of her. I hate that I hadn't spoiled her more and loved on her more. Sure she was smelly and mean to the boys, but she still needed love. Up until I had then, she was the most spoiled thing alive. Slept with me, ran in the backyard, sunbathed, etc. Before us, she had been abused and neglected. I taught her how to play. She attacked everyone, yet never once bit me, not matter what I did. But then I had the boys and she had to be kept away from them because she didn't like them. She had been abused, she had an excuse. But then thats it, I was too busy to play, too busy to love on her, too busy period. I had her for 10 years...from ages 15-25. And it wasn't enough. She was the one who licked away my tears from my first heartbreak and many others later. She was the one who nuzzled me when I was scared and upset because I made stupid mistakes and was in big trouble. She loved unconditionally and genuinely and yet, she was just a dog. But you know what? That little dog that had been abused her first 4 years of love was the best example of God's unconditional love. And me, the human who became to busy to show love is the best example of us humans being too busy for God. So too my Chiquita, I love you and I'm sorry. And too my loving Father, thank you fall all your love that you've given and shown through different people, animals, etc. I will never be too busy for you again, and if I do become to busy, I ask you to show me so I can repent.
