First up is the Letter A. For me, the first thing I think of when I think of that letter is A for Almond Joyful.
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I met Almond in April 2006 when I started volunteering with Chihuahua Rescue. They’re a no-kill rescue that also does sanctuary for many unadoptable dogs. And Almond was an “unadoptable” not because of anything being wrong with her but because who wanted a 13yr old chihuahua with the typical aging health issues?
How I met her is how I noticed her. I was in the kitchen washing dog dishes in the sink when I felt something rubbing against the back of my leg. Usually it’s paws that I feel, but it was strange and different. I looked down and found a little white dog rubbing the top of her head back and forth against my leg. I reached down and petted her which seemed to be what she wanted.
Later I remembered to ask about her to find out what her name was because the incident was unusual enough to me stick in my mind. I learned that her name was Almond and that she was an old senior who’d been found with a companion in an Marina del Ray intersection. Her companion had quickly been adopted but no one had spoken for Almond.
I came to realize that the head rubbing was Almond’s way of letting you know she was there saying Hello, how are you? Which was good because she lived with many other dogs all of whom would swarm humans looking for petting and attention. She ususally ended up underneath them because the rest would stand on their hind legs and lean on you with their front paws, creating a leanto of space where she was.
So when I’d feel the head rub, I’d know Almond was there and I’d lean down and find her among the other dogs and pick her up for a cuddle. She was so sweet and she became very fond of me to the point she’d follow me around anytime I was inside her playground/house area. And I got very attached too.
At the time, I was ‘in between’ residences, hanging out at my Dad’s house while I decided what to do next with my life so couldn’t even think of bringing her home. And I was already pushing it with Dad trying to bring Captain home. Some months and big changes later, I’m now living with Mom and helping her out by paying the rent on the place. By now I’d officially adopted Captain, and another dog Bastian and was resolved to not take in anymore til I got my own place.
But by October 2006, it started to hit home for me that Almond was already of advanced age. While chihuahuas can live up 20 years, given her chronic health issues, she seemed to already be living on borrowed time. I knew Mom wouldn’t be happy but I decided to just go ahead and bring her home anyways because who knew how long I would end up staying to help her out.
So on November 7th, 2004, I signed the contract officially making her mine. I swear Almond was saying “about time already!!”. Even though the hour long drive home was in the dark, Almond got in the dog seat and stared out the window the whole way.
The next morning, as Mom tells it, she was lying in bed when she heard a weird hacking sound in the hallway. She was pretty sure it wasn’t any of the dogs or me. She got up and went out to find a wheezy old white chihuahua looking back at her. Needless to say Mom was NOT happy. However, she understood why I went ahead and did it.
When I adopted her, I knew her as Almond so as usual, was loathe to change her name. But I decided to give her a last name of Joyful as a play on of the candy bar. Because Joyful is what Almond was. For her age, broken down and failing body, she never let that stop her from enjoying and living every moment to the fullest. She was the first one out the door for walks, she ruled over my other dogs, even Bastian who is usually Mr Bad Ass in Charge. 
I found that funny considering she only had 6 teeth left in her mouth yet a growl from her sent the other dogs skittering away. Then there was also the pantry incident, where we heard something in the pantry and noticed little dog feet sticking out below the door (which never quite closed right).
A surgery left her with a little leak in her bladder control. Her own body wasn’t strong enough to jump onto the furniture, that relegated her to the floor except for times we’d sit with her on our laps (on a towel). So she usually slept downstairs on the gigantic dog bed that she claimed as hers. It was a nightly routine that when I got up to go upstairs to bed, I’d go over and hug Almond and then tuck her in.
In the mornings, she would hear my Mom wake up, and would climb the stairs and find her and sit and stare at her until Mom was ready to go out and get the paper. She knew it was time for the paper which meant going on a short walk around the building to get it. And she wasn’t gonna miss out on a single trip.
That was Almond Joyful who taught me about appreciating life as it’s happening NOW.
She died in August, 2005. Her health started to fail on a serious level to the point where I started wrestling with the most horrible decision any person with pets can make: deciding on your pet’s life. Her previous joie de vivre wasn’t really present anymore. She was spending most of her time in bed. I was working from home at the time so I was with her during the day as well. One day I heard an awful cry and it turned out to be Almond crying in pain. Took her to Dr Schwartz who put her on saline and various other things. It was clear that the saline drip really helped her.
Then she turned for the worse again and went to Dr Schwartz again. I ended up staying at the rescue that weekend with Almond because the vet’s office & rescue were close together and an hour’s drive from home. He basically told me that there wasn’t much more he could do for her. She appeared to revive a little so decided to take her home one more time and if she failed again, I’d let her go.
Turns out, Almond made the same decision too only the only thing she was waiting for was to be home again. We got home late Sunday night, and I went into work the next day. Mom got up and decided to give her a bath since Almond wasn’t as able to get up and go outside as easy and had peed herself a couple times. Fresh and clean and in the arms of my Mom who loved her dearly too, she went.
I had to write this in pieces because I miss her so much that to think about her and remember opened the waterworks everytime. I definitely hope that if there’s a heaven, that she will be there. And if dogs aren’t allowed there, I want to go where they go.