What Pablo taught me about loving an old dog

He was the second Tiny, scruffy, with one bad eye, covered in ticks and fleas. The rest of the litter had been taken. I picked him up — and that was the end of the story. He was ours from that moment, and we his.

Pablo was a Chihuahua, and if you know Chihuahuas, you know they don't think of themselves as small. Pablo certainly didn't. He would stand up to dogs twice his size without a flicker of hesitation. He was feisty, stubborn, and deeply, quietly loving in the way only small dogs can be. He possibly lived to 21 years old.

I say "possibly" because we never knew his exact age when I found him — but we had him for a long, long time, and we watched every stage of his life. We watched him slow down. We watched his eyes cloud over. We watched his little legs get uncertain, his memory start to wander. Near the end, he wore diapers. Both eyes failed. He didn't always know where he was. But he was still Pablo. Still here. Still ours.

Caring for an old dog is one of the most tender, heartbreaking, and quietly beautiful things a person can do. Nobody really prepares you for it. Nobody tells you that you'll cry in the pet aisle because you're buying diapers for a dog. Nobody tells you that it will also be one of the most meaningful seasons of your life together.

Here's the one thing I wish someone had told us earlier: they don't live as long as we think they will. And when it hits you — really hits you — you want more time. You want to have done more. Loved more out loud. Taken more photos. Stayed home more evenings.

So if your dog is getting older, or even if they're not yet — love them now. Loudly. Often. Without waiting for a reason.

That's what Pablo taught us. And that's what Pup Ally is for.

— Nanette