Mine of my soul – The Counter

Mía was not my pet, she was my companion. She came to our family because fate wanted her. A more than understandable force, made this beautiful French bulldog, born on April 17, 2014, a huge joy in our lives.
It had titles and awards, which we found out about a long time later, but we never cared about that. We just wanted to give him a better quality of life and as much love as possible. She was a special warrior, because within three days of taking over our home, a violent pyometra had her between life and death. But he resisted the operation and wanted to live. He wanted to give us his best version, even if it was complicated in his heart and kidneys.
I have a hard time explaining in words everything that involves talking about it. I can only say that Mia stole our hearts, with her angelic gaze and her few antics or graces that she was willing to do. One of them is that every time I had to go to work, he climbed on the racket, something very uncomfortable to sleep or wait for me. She was not athletic and less full of energy, she was rather a guardian and territorial bitch, with maternal instinct in everything she did. With his protective gaze, he listened to the voices of Martina and Josefa and wanted to always be close to them.
His gift was to stop his pointed ears and keep them for a while as a sign that I am here. He devoured his plates of bread or chicken. Always hungry and waiting for Canela, the other dog in the house, to leave something for her to take advantage of the opportunity. Other times, he hoped that the Tata Victor will sit down for breakfast, to stand stealthily under the table and wait for his hand with some piece of bread or ham.
For months and after his operation, visits to the clinic to inject serum, controls, x-rays and injections were part of his routine. I know he didn’t like it, but he never refused. She was a boss, a girl boss as the girls called her. She was a fighter for and for life. That is the great teaching that Mine left us. 
A tumor on his back, with a very poor prognosis, caused insensitivity in his hind legs. He was losing mobility and muscle mass. Operating on her was too great a risk and after consulting some veterinarians, they all agreed. Mine will not walk again. You will need assistance. So the idea arose to look for someone who could make a car to suit him, until we found it. He didn’t like it, but when he put it on, he managed to move back for a few meters. Sure, if there wasn’t a little chicken, it didn’t move. She was very intelligent and mischievous. 
Cancer did its job and, on Wednesday the 12th, Mine could no longer do so. He had made a giant, colossal and enormous effort for a year, battling against his annoyances and inconveniences, but he never stopped giving away his tender and full of life look. She left accompanied by those who love and care for her. We were able to say goodbye and say thank you. Thanks for everything. Thank you for your look. Thank you for your little barking. Thank you for your thanks. Thank you for being Mine. Thank you for being special.
Her eyes closed and with her went almost three years of love, concern and generosity. Its emptiness is immense and its silence even deeper. She was a champion of life, a winner of dreams and longings. It was a gift of life, impossible to forget.
That’s why the adoption experience is wonderful. It is an act to better understand these beings who become one of the family. They are not pets. They are family. They are the ones who unconditionally give us everything. Therefore, those who can and wish to do so, take the initiative and live it. It helps us to be more human and empathetic. They teach us the simple and simple of life. 
Mine left us that as a legacy and we are eternally grateful.
Have a good trip, Mine of my heart.
 
The content expressed in this opinion column is the sole responsibility of its author, and does not necessarily reflect the editorial line or position of El Mostrador.

Original source in Spanish