Sunday, October 18, 2020


In her adult years, my little dog weighed as much as eight pounds and as little as four and a half pounds. You could tell though that she was really feeling herself when her number hit about five and a half.

Sophelia Clarice was a highly inbred Yorkshire terrier from Fallon, Nevada, and she passed away on March 10, 2020. Lil' Girl was nearly 14 years old. 

I think it was Planet Earth’s inhabitants' collective misfortune over the last months that got in my way of writing an obituary for my dog. I haven’t been too busy. I haven’t been debilitatingly sad. It’s just seemed like the death of an animal wasn’t nearly as significant as everything else going on. Yet it’s been bugging me that I haven’t made any kind of a big deal out of the death of someone who was so important to me for such a large portion of my life. 

Her favorite things were stuffed squeak toys, baby carrots, popcorn, and gorging from any garbage can she could get a larger dog to tip over for her. 

She saw Megan through some tough times—most traumatically, the divorce from the unfaithful first husband and the sudden death of her second husband. “Saw her through” in that Sophie was around, expecting to be fed and given attention. She wasn’t one of those selfless dogs you’ve heard about, the ones who lay by your side when you’re sick, or would die on the grave of their master. Sophie was selfish and independent. In that, she was Megan’s ideal canine counterpart. 

When Megan gained weight, Sophie gained weight. When Megan lost weight, Sophie lost weight. She had attitude, preferences, and ideas, and was about as irritating as any living creature could be. 

It was Soph’s notions and individuality that prompted Megan to give up meat back in 2007. “If dogs can have little thoughts and proclivities, why wouldn’t a cow?” Megan said, “I can’t eat things that I think think.” A tiny dog’s desire to lay in a specific pile of laundry saved the lives of cows and chickens, fish and pigs, and turned Megan into a right hassle to feed. 

Sophie's spirit and attitude made her enjoyable and infuriating. Without Soph around, the world is down one rad little dog.  

In the end, I kind of hated her. She developed an annoying reverse sneeze that no vet could figure out, despite the buckets of money I threw at the problem. That spontaneous and then never-ending sneezing stole my sleep. It stole Jason’s sleep. Jason never knew cool, fun Sophelia. He only knew her as a monumental pain in the ass. I mourn that loss specifically—I wish my boyfriend had known my dog when she didn't suck. And though I was relieved on both hers and my behalves when it was time for her to go, each and every day I miss my teeny beast. 

1 comment:

Sue said...

Soph was a trip. I was remembering just the other day that I had been babysitting her and unwittingly treating her with too much bacon, so much to the point she was too fat and couldn't roll over anymore.

And then there was the time she ate an entire box of my chocolate Zone protein bars.

I also remember she took pets for only so long and then moved to the other side of the couch.

That little girl was small but oh so mighty.