Frisco

This week, we said goodbye to our precious boy, Frisco. My heart is broken. He was my first baby. We brought him home at just 6 weeks old. He was a tiny white powder puff. But, even in his little body, he was feisty. We put him down on the kitchen floor and our older Westie walked over to sniff him and give him the once over. Frisco raised his tiny paw and literally slapped the older dog away. From that moment on, it was his house.

He was by side when I worked night and spent so much time in our apartment alone. He snuggled with me while I recovered from many surgeries. He let me hug him far too tight after we suffered more than one miscarriage. And, he was companion during all those long days on bedrest.

He was there for everything. The big stuff and the little stuff. Moving, bringing babies home from the hospital, holidays, laughter, tears and all the mundane days.

But, this past Thursday, that sweet little man died in my arms. It was time. For him, anyway. We weren't ready. I'm not sure we ever would have been. We bought him cheeseburgers then wrapped him in his blanket and drove to the vet. I was honestly afraid he was going to pass away in the car on the way there. I was able to hold him the whole time. As much as it killed me, I'm glad we did that for him. He knew our love up until the very end. I hope anyway. I hope we gave him a good life. Because he meant the world to mine.