My Angie

Hi. My name is Daisy. I am a brown, long-haired Chihuahua. I know what you are thinking. Dogs can't talk. And they sure can't tell a story. Well, this is a serious story and I am the only one to tell it because I was there. So, as you read what I am about to tell you, consider your own pet. See, I had a human. A human that I loved very much. And she loved me. She was a beautiful girl. She was tall, blonde and had big, beautiful blue eyes. Men just adored her. She would lower her head and glance up at them with those eyes and they would become putty in her hand. This was her talent. She was street smart and a graduate from the school of hard knocks. Academics really weren't her thing. But she had so much life and she knew how to live it. That is for sure.

Humans think it's easy for pets to just sort of "go on" with things when a human leaves us. As if we have no importance and no feelings. I'm here to tell you that our feelings are real. And we have hearts too. And mine is broken.

Angie was my human. She was always smiling on the outside. But she was crying on the inside. She wanted a love that only two people could give her. Those two failed miserably. One re-married and started a new life where the priority was other children. And her father left the country where his life was his job. Sadly, no one can replace a mother or a father. I tried to be the perfect pet for her, though. I knew she was getting herself into a bit of trouble. But, who's going to listen to a pet? Who could I have told?

She's been taken away now. The men that came in the room, they took her and she's gone now. It wasn't her choice. I was there. I was sleeping in the bed when my Angie...and Rachel and Bob came home. Well, it was Bob's home, but it was where we all were staying. My Angie came to greet me as she always did. She always missed me as much as I missed her.

Bob's place was immaculate. Italian marble in the bathrooms and European granite in the kitchen. We were on the top floor and the place was wall to wall windows so no matter what room you were in, you had a safe, quiet view of the city below.

Rachel, Angie and Bob were all in the livingroom. I was in the bedroom, but I could see out into the other room. Bob reached into the bar, in a drawer below the alcohol, for the white, powdered stuff that they all sniffed. I sniffed it once and all I did was sneeze and run around chasing my tail for the next hour or two. It was not fun. I honestly don't know why they do it. They seem to like it. Humans. Such a strange species.

Anyway, I assumed my position back in the bed. I guess I dosed off again. I do tend to sleep quite a bit when there's no human around to talk to or play with.

Later, when I woke up, my Angie was laying in bed next to me. I felt that something was wrong. Something didn't feel right. I got closer to see what the matter was. I licked her hand. Nothing. I licked her right on the nose. This ALWAYS resulted in her brushing me away with her hand. And she would usually mumble something in her sleep. But, it didn't seem like she was sleeping.

Something was terribly wrong. I knew it now. I yelped and cried. Still. Nothing.

Bob yelled, "Shut that damned thing up."

Rachel rushed in and picked me up. She was shaking.

Bob told Rachel, "I'll take care of this. We need to get you on the plane and back home tonight. I'll make some phone calls. We'll get somebody over here tomorrow. You just act like you don't know anything. The coroner will find it to be an overdose. Can you handle this?"

Rachel nodded. She began to cry and she held me. Her tears were falling in my hair. I'd seen my Angie sniff that powdered stuff and then cry later after she was alone. This was a different kind of crying though.

"Call me when you get home and we'll decide when to start making other phone calls. Go it?", he asked her. More like he was telling her than asking her.

She nodded again.

If only I had been awake. Why didn't I hear anything? I could have barked and maybe got someone's attention and...and...and Bob probably would have just told me to shut-up...and...nothing would be different right now.

Then, Bob and Rachel left. I was alone with my Angie. I lay down beside her and decided to just wait with her. I got up to check on her in a little while. She felt cool. Her skin felt different when I licked her nose. I scooted closer and closer to her to try to keep her warm. She just lay still. No response.

I knew at that moment that my human would never pet me again, never talk to me again, never scoop me up and kiss me again. She was gone. How had this happened?

It felt like days had gone by and then finally, Bob returned. Rachel was not with him. He poured himself a Scotch, downed the whole thing, and then made a phone call. His voice sounded strange. Not his usual tone or demeanor. Something was just not right here. I needed help. And Bob certainly was not going to help us.

Bob took the bag of white powder and put it and some money in my Angie's purse. Why had he done that? That powder is not hers. He put something else in there too. It looked like a pill bottle. Why was he giving these things to her now?

A few minutes later, there was someone at the door. Bob talked to the man at the door. He handed him some money. The man came over and started looking at my Angie. He was sort of inspecting her. Moving her arms and looking closely at her head and her face. What was he doing? He was writing some things down on a paper.

A few minutes later a couple more men came. Bob, again, greeted them and handed each some money. They all just non-chalantly slid it into their pockets without even looking at it. How did they know it was the right amount?

My Angie spared no expense when buying me things. I had seen her hand money to people in stores and we would walk out with a brand new outfit for me. Bob was just handing these men money but they didn't hand him anything back.

Two of these men put my Angie on a white bed...sort of a bed on wheels. They put a white sheet over her whole body and wheeled her out the door. I barked and hopped around. I wanted to go with her. "Wait, I'm coming too.", I howled.

Bob picked me up and held me until they were gone. Then, he put me down and poured himself four or five more drinks. I lost count really. Besides, I wasn't interested in what he was doing. I was more interested in where my Angie had gone.

A few minutes later someone else arrived. This time Bob greeted the man at the door but did not hand him any money. Instead, he scooped me up and handed me to the man. His tone was different again. This time softer and almost sweet sounding. Definitely NOT his normal tone.

This man took me to a cold and noisy place. There were shrieking barks that echoed throughout the building. The building had a large room with a bunch of barking dogs. The man took me into a smaller room off to the side. He put me into a square sort of hole in the wall and then closed this metal gate behind me. I jumped on the gate, but it was latched closed. Was this some sort of punishment? Why was my human taken away and I was thrown into this cell? Was I to die here, alone?

There was just newspaper covering the floor and a water bowl in my square hole. I curled up in the far, dark corner and tried to go to sleep. I could not. I just shivered all night and cried.

Finally, someone came to save me from my demise. The man retrieved me from my square hole and handed me to a woman. This woman took me to her car and held me and cried. She cried so hard. I could feel that she too was missing my Angie. Oh how I wanted to tell her what I had seen and what I had heard. I listened intently to her as she spoke, hoping that she might tell me where my Angie was. I wanted to be with her.

It's been weeks now since the woman rescued me. I've determined that she was part of my Angie's family, or as we dogs would say, part of her pack. I suppose I will one day love her. But, I will always miss my Angie. And everything I know about her will never be known by any human. It doesn't really matter HOW she was taken anymore. She's gone. I can't change it. I just have to live with it. As do Bob and Rachel. I wonder how they are sleeping these days.