Mick, this little one in the picture, died suddenly tonight. He was very special to my family. One morning in 2003, while driving to work in the rain, he was on the side of the road in traffic wandering out. I jumped out of my car, stopped traffic and picked up his fuzzy, wet little ass up and put him in the car.
He was in a good part of the ghetto, so I started walking up and down the street asking if peeps knew him. Oh.. yes they did..
"He live there to the right, he live to the left, he live up dat street." He actually didn't live there at all..duh as I called in late to work and brought him back home.
I put out flyers everywhere, blah blah blah.. put his picture up in the city, online and on Md Penny Saver ect. One night I got a ton of calls from Pomeranian fans who just wanted to talk about him, but didn't own him. I entertained these stupid calls for hours.
And then that night, one call came in from this smoky little baltimore voice saying, "Hon, I think this is my brothers dog... My brother has terminal cancer but stayed at home until it got bad, and he called me to pick him up to take him to Good Samaritan Hospital last Sunday night... he brought his little dog, Penny too.. We left Penny in the car, a sandy colored Pomeranian.. and the next morning, I went to leave and the dog got out and ran away. (This is within 2 blocks of where I found him).
Smoky Baltimore hon said it'd be best I kept him, as her brother would be dead soon and she couldn't care for the dog. She thanked me and got off the phone.
The day of this picture above, I'd already talked to my Mom and asked if she could possibly take him in. Mom wasn't so happy as her Yorkie was very possessive, but she accepted. This picture was the moment I met Mom and Dad in Frederick and handed Micky off. He ran right to Dad and laid next to him on the carseat, and never stopped being close to Dad.
Mickey and Max, the Yorkie hit it off.. easily. And each day when Dad would come over to Mom's house, Mickey would run to Dad and hang with him for most of the time. When Dad was dying at his home, we brought Mickey over to his house to be with him. One bad morning, Dad woke up and told me he'd never felt such pain as I was planning to get him to his Baltimore docs..He had 2 days left.. As I walked down the hall to make phone calls and get ready to leave, I heard Dad talking to Mickey in the same playful voice as always as if everything was perfectly fine.
Mickey was Dad's bud. When Dad was gone, he was Mom's buddy, but lost a bit. Long before Mom died, she told us that our cousins wanted to take him if she died before him.
When that day came, Mickey had a home planned, but Max the Yorkie did not. This sucked and my cousin Jolynne agreed to take them both. The day she picked them both up, was awful as Sheila and I handed them off. BUT it ended up being great because the dogs loved being there, and we were sent pictures and updates.
So tonight as Scott and I were chatting on the phone, I opened the email detailing Mickey's quick passing this evening. I scanned it, stopped Scott from talking and asked him to take 2 deep breaths.. then read it to him. We sat on the phone quietly and cried hard like little kids.
Mickey had a weird life of rescues, good homes and re-locations, but will be fine hanging with Mom and Dad and even his previous Dad who died around the time I found him.
Yet needless to say, it's sad when a baby dies. Luckily he died quickly at home with my cousin loving on him closely until he left. He was buried on Dad's home turf in PA with loving ritual and appreciation.
Cheers to that little found boy.. he made our family better!
