Mitzi

When my mother and I picked up Mitzi at an adoption event, it felt like fate. A two-and-a-half year old rescue from Thailand, we suspect she was abused by a man due to how she disliked my dad at first. I went to college for a brief stint after we brought her home, and over that time he fed her and they learned to love each other.

When my mom passed, Mitzi glued onto me. We were inseparable ever since.

Mitzi was always good in the car. Even when going to the vet. She'd sit or lay down and enjoy the journey, sometimes peeking out the window, usually trying to get my attention with some pets.

On her last night, I pet her the entire drive. I think she knew. She didn't shake. She simply leaned into my hand and trusted that I knew the way.

We never really knew what mix Mitzi ended up being. Chihuahua for certain, but there were other bits and pieces intermingled in there.

In her last few years, she lost all the fur on her tail. I kept calling it a "rat tail". She was a happy dog — always wagging it whenever she heard her name, and wiggling about whenever I gave her attention. Even when she rested, she'd wag it freely when I looked over. Like she wanted me to know she was just happy to be there.

I think her original name when we adopted her was either Yin or Yang. She had a sibling that had the other name. I picked the name Mitzi for a funny reason — it was a name I had heard from a video game called The Cat Lady, and for some reason, it stuck with me.

She took to it quickly. It didn't take much convincing. My itsy-bitsy Mitzi — she liked it from the start.

Mitzi was 14 when she went over the rainbow bridge. On or about, anyway. She had so much life in her still. She always had a very high pain tolerance. We thought she had at least another year with how spry she was overall. Sometimes, it doesn't work out the way you want it to. And sometimes, you have to make the decision before their life declines.

I was told I made the right decision. So she could go before the pain became unbearable. So she could go, remembering the feeling of warmth and love and everything in between.

I did not leave her alone. I cradled her until she went gentle into the good night.

The picture on the page of her curled up in bed, all tucked in, was taken on Halloween of 2026. She was watching Hannibal with me after a long week of moving into a new apartment. She'd only ever known the condo her whole life. This was new for her. Strange and scary. But she always liked watching things with me. She just liked existing in the same space. And I was more than happy to indulge her.