Note: All of us who have pets know they are in fact special members of the family. Because of it, we mourn their deaths, grieve for the loss, and covet their memory. Veteran journalist and communications consultant reminds us today of how true this is with this special tribute to her pup who died Wednesday.
By Susan Adler Thorp
Pitsel, a four-legged, light brown, short-haired pup, who was arguably the sweetest canine this side of the Mississippi, died peacefully Wednesday, August 14, in the arms of the human who loved her the most.
Pitsel was adopted in October 2011 after she was spotted climbing on the back of an old Portuguese water dog five times her size at the Memphis Humane Society. Her big brown eyes and playful demeanor could melt anyone’s heart, and her message that day was clear: adopt me.
Pitsel’s early life had not been easy. Where she was born will always be a mystery, but the best guess is that her mother gave birth to a Chihuahua with a little Rat Terrier added to the mix. A kind soul found her one day on the side of a road, hit by a car and suffering from a broken leg. She was brought to the Memphis Humane Society where she was patched and cared for. After six weeks and no one claimed her, she was put up for adoption — the day before I walked in and spotted my four-legged pal who would be by my side for the rest of her life – almost 14 more years, to be exact.
Pitsel came equipped with one appreciated talent. She knew to pee outside. Everything else was instinctive. She rolled in the dirt, ate grass, loved car rides, smelled flowers, chased squirrels and, most of all, hated her bath.
Pitsel had little use for other animals. Dogs and cats were boring unless she found a dog she could hump. She stared at bugs, birds were an enigma, and squirrels were good for chasing. When it came to humans, she was all in. She greeted everyone — strangers included — with a sniff and a wag and let it be known that the quickest way to her heart was with a treat. Humans could do what other species could not: give her treats. When her mealtime arrived, she would bark, dance on her hind legs, and run in circles like a whirling dervish. When it came to my mealtime, her big brown eyes were unrelenting. She knew there were a few bites of chicken on the table just for her.
Pitsel loved couches and chairs and pillows. Her daily perch was on the back of the sofa, or on a pillow next to my desk as I worked. When she was too old to jump on the bed to sleep, a nearby overstuffed chair suited her just fine along with nightly tummy rubs and endless kisses with her loving tongue.
But time got the best of my best furry friend. And she let me know when she had had enough. It was a tough goodbye, and it still is. She came into my life suddenly and left slowly. But she left me with the wonderful memories of the fun and pleasure that only a dog can give a human.
In addition to me, her forever friend, Pitsel also leaves behind so many who loved her dearly including her two-legged siblings, Leigh and Ben; her two-legged nieces, Ellie, Mira, and Eden; her four-legged cousins, Myron, Tootsie, Luna, and Miffy; and her kind veterinarian, Chuck Halford, the best friend a pup could have.
Pitsel’s family asks that you remember Pitsel with a donation to the animal-loving charity of your choice.
