As if my emotional pain hasn't been near bad enough this week, following the death of my mother on Monday from respiratory damage done primarily from secondhand smoke at her former workplace, my little miniature wirehair dachshund who was the loyal partner of my parents and used to sleep with them every single night, died of an apparent broken heart suddenly Thurdsday evening.
Little Samuel Fudge was around 13 years old, and a very cute and intelligent little guy despite his tiny stature. He had a soldier-like loyality to my parents, always standing guard for them in their bedroom and always their loyal companion. The psychology of this little dog was somewhere between being the "baby" of my parents and being their tiny fearless protector.
A few years ago, Fudge had to have all his teeth extracted due to some some of gum disease. From that point on, his tongue would hang outside his mouth on one side, which was both unfortunate and distinctive. My father used to lovingly break his chicken up into very small pieces for him to eat.
Even though Fudge was orginally intended as a replacement for my nearly 20 year dachshund loyal companion, Tiger, who was also my TV shop companion, he never really like me as much my parents. He had a close as glue bond to them. When my mother passed away this last Monday, he must have assumed that his guard duties were over, and he could could sleep forever.
Good bye little Fudge. I'll deeply miss you.