December 4, 2012 by toheaveninahooptie
This post is dismal and more for my sake of remembering things than anyone else’s sake of reading about it, but feel free to if you’re interested. When I went to France, my brother found an emaciated stray chihuahua walking around a tire place. He was pitiful; each rib showing and no collar or owner to be seen. The people that worked there said he had been there a while and would gnaw on chicken bones or any digestible food he could find. Long story short, he became ours. When I came home from France the first thing I noticed about Tito was a little yellow present on my bed skirt. That little yellow present became a
monthly, weekly daily occurrence. I’ve never been to fond of little dogs, especially those that pee on my bed, so I wasn’t exactly Tito’s biggest fan, but he was cute and he brought my mom numerous laughs and smiles.
My mother adored this dog. She bought him a hounds tooth coat, elf outfit, Christmas sweater, football sweater, everything you could possibly give a dog. He went everywhere with her and she even spoke for him in an adorable Mexican accent (he was a chihuahua after all). She gave him a full name (Tito Esteban Beans) and an even more full personality. Tito was my mom’s new baby, she made sure that he ate at a specific time so that his “blood sugar wouldn’t get low” and watched the weather to make sure he had warm enough clothing on. She read chihuahua blogs and became educated on small dog care. He was her best friend, constant companion, and a source of many smiles.
Yesterday as my mom opening the front door, Tito shot out and across the street to another dog that was walking. Despite the loud, unmistakable screams from both my mom and the woman walking her dog, three trucks speed by. The last truck’s back tire hit Tito and kept going. We don’t know how hard or where Tito was hit, but after the impact he balled up and refused to move. His hip had a knick and appeared to be swelling, so we rushed him to the LSU Vet School because they were the only vet open on a Sunday afternoon.
They took Tito back and told us that it didn’t look severe. He stayed over night and underwent x-rays and blood work to reveal a fractured pelvis, blood in his abdomen, and a ruptured bladder. Unfortunately, the ruptured bladder could not be fixed. Today during school I had 4 missed calls from my mom, when I finally called her back after getting out of school, she was in tears and explained that Tito would need to be put down. I had the opportunity to go, but I didn’t feel like it would be beneficial for me to be there. My mom adored this dog and I hardly gave him a second thought; it just didn’t feel right for me to go. A couple hours later and my mom is holding up well, but clearly distraught and missing her little guy. There is a tiny pet coffin here waiting to be buried when there is adequate light and my mom is will probably be morose for a couple of weeks.
Although it’s terrible that Tito died at only two years old, I’d like to think of what would have become of him without my family. He would have died a slow and agonizing death alone and hungry. With us, he had a year to live as a prince. Many humans in this world could only dream of having the attention and devotion my mom gave Tito. He lived in luxury and died in comfort and love. Rest in peace, Tito Esteban Beans.