Mrs Mia Wallace

She was nineteen years old when she finally left this earth. By my side her entire life, and I was forty one at the time of her passing. That meant nearly half my life, I had Mrs Mia Wallace next to me. This was a blessing like no other I have ever experienced in my lifetime thus far. When we first got her, she was so small she could fit in my jacket zipped up. We wondered why we got such a small dog, we were normally ‘Big Dog People’, if you know what I mean. She was my girl, it was my decision to get a dog, we were young and married too young. He didn’t want anything to do with her, that is, until he saw what a bright light she was. Once you saw Mia, you couldn’t ever turn away from her light. This little dog saved my life, more than once, that much is certain.

She was a chow/schipperke/rat terrier mix, orange, small, with a head that sometimes looked too small for her body. Her face had the sweetest expression, a gentle smile at the corners of her mouth, and soft brown eyes that looked right through your soul. Her orange coat was short wiry fur, with a woolen undercoat that was one hundred percent waterproof. The girl never “actually” got wet. Her tail had a lovely upward curve, and she had, in my humble opinion, the cutest booty on any dog anywhere. When that tail wagged with joy, so did every living thing around it. Her joy was often, frequent, and let’s face it, basically a constant. This little dog made my day, every day, that much is true.

Once upon a time in our travels together, Mrs Mia Wallace met a seer. A psychic woman, who held the little dog's face in her hands and stared deeply into her eyes. They sat that way for what seemed like hours, we were on the coast in BC Canada, at a campsite in the forest. Old Mother Hippie Lady had made fast friends with my girl. After some time contemplating each other, the old lady looked at me and said “She is the soul of an old gypsy woman, and is wiser than you or I combined and multiplied.” To this I still wholeheartedly agree. That little dog was a babushka, that much is for sure.

Eventually I left the husband, and took nothing with me except my cat and my dog. They were all I ever truly needed, anyhow. Mia was my rock, my constant, my anchor to reality. She never did anything wrong, unless you count eating trash, but as I call myself a foodie, I can relate. She was just a ‘trashie’ and knew good tasty bits when she smelled them. There were two things in this world that mattered to Mrs Mia Wallace, and those two things were myself, and food. If it were a snack and me combined, well that was absolute heaven. That little dog went to heaven indeed, if there is one, that much I can count on.

She saw me through my next rash of lovers, ex fiances and hot messes. We moved around a bit, life tossing us around. She never gave up on me, and was there for each and every disaster, blinking at me and smiling as she wagged her tail. Mia could do a number of circus tricks, a dozen in total, and all of them by hand signal. Which, as she aged, was an important skill for her to possess; her hearing faded before anything else on her ancient little body. Mia went to Canada, back down to San Diego, she went to Reno, and Death Valley. She took trips to the ocean, and up mountains. She spent the majority of her life in mountain towns like North Lake Tahoe and Mammoth Lakes. When we went on hikes, in her younger years, she was as fast as a mini dirt bike. Ripping past us and using the berms to make hard gravity turns as she went. That little dog was the fastest dog in town, that much she proved time and time again.

The ring bearer in my best friends wedding eight years ago, she was the very best wedding dog ever. A good friend of ours stitched her a ring pillow vest, of satin and embroidery and ribbons, to match the colours of the wedding. Whenever I left town, Mia would go stay with her auntie and uncle, and she was well aware of the importance of her job. The ring bearer was there to please.

She ran down the aisle straight to the bride and groom, like she had been training for that moment her entire life. She sat at the bride's feet, my best friends the two of them, for the entire wedding ceremony. She was included in the wedding photo shoot too, of course. That little dog made every set of eyes in that wedding party tear up, as mine are right now, that is the god's honest truth.

She has been on every adventure a dog could go on, and had numerous near death experiences. A terrible encounter with a Pit Bull, was four hours of surgery, stitches and staples and an ended friendship. Another time she nearly cooked herself in a hidden hot spring puddle, a steaming hot plunge and she screamed like a banshee. No scars from that one, I think it just scared her more than anything. Sitting with her vulva enlarged and in heat, she shelacked her backside with fresh spring pine sap runoff, and her and I spent some hours getting her cleaned up with a jar of mayo and some paper towel. The little dog was tough, that much was tested.

The last five years or so, I knew her time was getting shorter. She suffered a stroke, and recovered in a few weeks, just a bit weaker and a bit more crooked. Her little legs had carried her so far, the number of steps she has taken on this earth are almost infinite. I understood her exhaustion. Even as tired as she was, as the little legs began to give out, she still tried to keep up with me. Eyes on me, at all times. So very many steps, leaps, jumps, and bounds. She finally retired from doing tricks for treats, and in her final years could have whatever she wanted for free. No work required. Well, she was never allowed salty food, that was too much for her delicate digestion. Years of eating trash will do that to a girl. That little dog was a trooper, this much was obvious.

I had opportunities to say my goodbyes a few times over the last couple years, and I thought I was ready to release my little russian grandmababy. Turns out one is never ready to say goodbye to a friend like Mrs Mia Wallace. The day I came home and found her suffering, her body had stopped working for her, was the hardest day of my existence. She looked at me, and it was still her in there, her eyes saw me and knew. She told me it was ok and she could go, but my heart broke, nevertheless. I was gifted almost two decades of her loyalty, her dedication, her love and adoration. I am sobbing as I write this, even while I know full well that she had the best life I could have given her. That it was fun and light and thriving. Yet it still aches, worse than a broken heart from an old lover. This is what it means to know loss, such massive loss. That little dog changed my life, that much I can feel in my bones.

The pandemic was especially hard on me, and in her final year of life, it was not so easy on her either. Yet she still held on, and was my anchor as usual. I felt for the first time in my life, the option of suicide. When I realised the depth of my darkness, I turned to my little dog Mia, and her love was the reminder I needed. I could never let her down, not after the decades of love and committment she had given me. She felt my pain, and dragged her arthritic old bones to my lap, to lean on me and press herself into my chest. She knew my aches, and she loved me anyway. That little four legged woman saved my life, that much I have proved by writing this story.

I had the Vet come to my home to send her off where she was most comfortable, and her very last moment she will remember on earth, was staring into my face while she munched a piece of prosciutto. Throw salty to the wind, I thought. Her last meal should be delicious, and I do believe she agreed that it was. If there was any reason I was meant to live this life, it was to share my reality with Mrs Mia Wallace. She made life worth living, even now that she is gone, her impact on me is priceless. I am who I am, in large part due to her love. That little dog was made of love, that much is magic.

There is an artist on etsy that is making me a pendant with Mia’s amber coloured fur preserved inside it. Quartz, pearl and citrine, her colours. She will rest over my heart, next to her initials tattooed on my torso. I loved that little dog more than I knew was possible. THAT much, is true.

RIP MIA

AUGUST 2021