Cochise Canine Rescue is located in Southern Arizona. We adopt throughout the state of AZ
Huey
Life is fragile and fleeting.
Love is the gift we are given to make that reality at least somewhat palatable.
Huey, a tiny black Chihuahua, came from the Pinal pound’s euthanasia list with his brother Malcolm and sister Angela. At 2 months of age, Huey was obviously the runt; skinny with a too-large head and too far apart eyes. His teeth were crooked and he had an under bite. He would play with and growl at each piece of food. It became apparent that the larger two puppies were eating all the food while Huey played.
The two larger pups soon went to their new homes.
My husband Jeff made sure Huey learned to eat. At first Huey preferred to eat his kibble off the floor, taking pieces out of the bowl, barking, pouncing and playing with them. But as he became comfortable eating from a bowl, his weight went up. He grew into the cutest little puppy, his little pink tongue always peeking out from his lips.
Jeff and Huey bonded. Huey’s unfocused gaze became focused. Huey learned his name and came when called. He began playing with the other small dogs and would run outside when they would go out. While we were concerned, he stuck close to his larger brethren, coming and going with them. He seemed to know that there was safety in numbers.
One morning after we arose, the small dogs charged out the front door into our fenced yard, as they do every morning. We made coffee and began preparing the dogs’ breakfast. Soon we opened the door and called the dogs back in. Running and frolicking, one after the other they poured into the house. But no Huey.
Jeff and I went outside and called him.
Still no Huey.
We walked the property, panicking as the minutes ticked by. As I fed the other dogs, Jeff scoured the property. Huey was nowhere to be seen.
As the hours slipped by, our hearts rose to our throats. We went onto our neighbor’s property…a 27-acre overgrown, uninhabited homestead, crawled thru thickets, under brush, over rocks, calling out to our lost dog. We separated, seeking, calling Huey’s name, all to no avail. We returned home, scratched, bruised, dirty and disheartened.
I had the frightening, overwhelming sense that a large raptor had snatched our little boy in his little t-shirt and carted him off into the clear and distant sky...
We sent out a bulletin on the community e-mail. I called neighbors. Jeff continued to look, speaking with neighbors, asking whether they had seen our tiny boy.
That night we searched with flashlights hoping to see something missed during the day. We listened for Huey, hoping to hear yelps or cries of distress. But all that we heard were sounds of nighttime calls of birds and rustlings of wild life.
Hours turned into days and the inevitability of loss became a dark shroud enveloping out hearts. The frustration of not knowing what had happened to this precious little boy haunts us…
All too soon the demands of everyday life overtook our thoughts. But several times a day Jeff will let out a deep and wrenching sigh…and the unspoken name of a tiny, black, lost puppy fills the air.
Benson, AZ 2013