Chica was a good dog. She was 15 or 16, and the last dog that any of my siblings had. This was my youngest sister’s dog. I remember when they moved to a tiny apartment and brought Chica to live with us and our (at the time) dogs and cats. At the time, they hadn’t had any cats, so we were concerned that Chica would chase / attack the cats. After a little while, she made it clear that she understood that the cats were family members.

The highlight of Chica’s time with us was when my niece #LG would visit. She made sure everyone knew that was her little girl.

Chica kept trying to “go home”, so she’d escape from the backyard and then wander the neighborhood. Home was fifty miles away, so we always found her and returned her before them. (The experience fence-building turned out to be valuable for #sonTwo, who built a fence around his own backyard this year.)

After they bought a house, Chica moved back home. She wandered in the front or back, but never tried to leave. And now that she was accepting of cats, they got two cats, one of which became her best friend.

#RIP Chica.