I've never had a small dog. I prefer labs, retrievers, German shepherds, and pits.
Small little dogs yap too much and are pretty annoying, most of the time.
Well, not half a year into our marriage and my wife comes home with this tiny little puppy. She was a pure-bred Yorkie, who we actually got for free thanks to my Mother in Law and soon to be Sister in Law. They owned her parents. And at first, I really didn't care for this dog.
Think about it: We lived in an apartment complex, so we had to walk her down and up the stairs to go "poddy" several times a day. She yapped (ugh) at everything that made a sound. And she needed/required SO much attention. She had to be loved on and spoken kind words to. She was, high-maintenance, to say the least.
And you know what? She actually grew on me.
I had to put my childhood dog down, after 15 years, down about a year before we got Gypsy (yes, my wife loves Fleetwood Mac). So, needless to say, I did not expect to get so emotionally attached after the toll it took on me with my last dog. But, I did. And I couldn't really help it.
There were times I'd beat this dog because her barking was so bad. And there were other times I'd play, and laugh, and live life.
She died this past Sunday. It was a car-accident.
And it was short, thank goodness. I was able to hold her during it. Me and my wife put our son to bed for a nap, and we went out and buried her with some of her favorite turns. We took turns with the shovel and carved a "G" on the tree beside the grave.
It was unexpected. And hard. And tough.
I don't really get how some people don't care about animals or cannot get attached to them like I can. It doesn't make sense to me, but I don't think I can ever understand it.
But I do know this: I just miss Gyp's yapping.