A bit earlier today, I had to put my dog down.
She was probably the thoughest dog I've known. She had a weird skeleton, arthrosis, a stroke, a couple surgeries on her back; she had survived a couple nasty infections and was also a bit blind and deaf. But she kept coming back strong, full of joy, stubborness and love. That said, in the end, her kidneys gave up and lived a couple of rough months, with an incredibly bad and sad final weekend.
She was one of the most loving and caring dogs I've known.She always wanted to be around family and only in her final months stopped going to bark to whoever was leaving the house when she heard the front door opening. After her stroke, I stopped working on my studio so I could keep her company in the kitchen during the nights and she got used at lying her head over my left foor as I was working and fall asleep there. She even got to the point of complaining whenever I couldn't do that!.
Still, my father's death hurt her a lot, since she was used at always having people around and now had to deal with me going to sleep on the first floor, leaving her alone. That said, for some reasons that are not worh mentioning in this entry, I ended up sleeping for an hour or two every morning on the kitchen floor, so at least I can keep that memory of both of us sleeping in the same room while listening to some jazz album.
Probably, the thing that surprises me the most is that I didn't want this dog in the first place. My brother and mom wanted a new puppy and my dad said yes, but I was really worried that our older dog, Milú would get too jealous, so I still spent more time with her. Needless to say, with her charming personality and loving looks, she won me over in a couple of years.
My brother and I named her Cuqui after Néstor "Cuqui" Silvera, the striker that scored most of the goals during the Apertura 2002 torunament of argentinean football while playing for my team, Independiente. I still remember the day when be both looked at the backyard at the same time and yelled the nickmane together. Later my father "re-named" her "Kuky" for her collar, for whatever reason.
These past few months had been really hard for us, since she stopped eating from her plate normally for some reason and that always took a lot of my time to figure out how to feed her. She also had stopped taking her arthrosis meds and, finally, her kidneys' failure left her only a shadow of her normal self. Still, I have plenty of good memories, like when she was constantly asking for food, or when she got up to 'ask me' to put a blanket over her or her reluctance to walk over wet floors. When I was coming home from the vet, it started to rain "at least she got away from it", I thought.
Fuck, I'm gonna miss that dog!
Rest in peace, Cuqui!! you were, are and will always be loved...
Thanks for reading.
Listening to: Something