Finn

Dear Finnegan,

           Kristen and I both miss you. She misses talking to you and so do I. I miss us all riding in the car together, me coming from work. They miss you at work, too. I live in hell, but you probably know that already, considering. We talk, Kristen and I, now and then. She's working and I'm busy, but we still talk and mostly talk about you. You were so good for us. Of course, she's the one who saved your life, I just adopted you. I didn't know what was wrong with you. See, when I first got you, I was lonely. You were lonely, too, but in a different way. Your family had abadoned you. I still don't know the full story of how you ended up there, just that I got you.  You were potty trained, learned tricks, and cuddled with me, after we figured out how not to have me choking you when cuddling you. Remember, one time, you were sitting next to Kristen, letting her cuddle with you and I asked to get you, because I wanted to cuddle with you too and when I cuddled with you, you ran away and I told you to come back. Kristen explained I was cuddling you too hard, like I cuddle my teddy bears. You weren't a teddy bear. You had ribs, a big heart, lungs, kidneys, and all that stuff. Kristen told me to cuddle you soft the way she did.

           But, see, there was one time Kristen let you do something I wouldn't let you do, which is why you loved her more than me. I understand now, though. You (Finnegan) and Kristen were sitting on the couch and you ran to the edge of the couch and Kristen said she wanted your love, the same way I wanted your love, but she didn't force you to love her, she let you go and you eventually came back to her and loved her more because she respected your boundaries and I didn't. If I wanted you to cuddle with me and you to give me your loving, damn it, you were going to cuddle with me and give me your loving, whether you liked it or not. She also spent a lot more time petting you and massaging you. She did research of chigis (chihuahua/corgis) and found out what they liked and don't like. She found out what colors dogs can see and what colors dogs can't see. She learned what dogs want and what they're trying to tell us by their body language. 

           Also, you went to work with me as a therapy dog. You weren't a great therapy dog, but you were terrible in the apartment by yourself. You would whine, moan, and dig whenever anyone else went past my apartment.  So, we had to make you a therapy dog so the neighbors would stop complaining. But, because you were a therapy dog, I had to give you a bath once a month. I miss having a bath tub. This shit hole I live in now, only has shower “for our safety”. Bullshit. Anyway, I filled the tub full of water at the temperature I take a bath at and then I put Finn in the tub and Finn starts moaning. So, I tell Finn (Finn is short for Finnegan) that it's okay. It's just a bath. But Kristen came running and said, “I hear you, Finn. What's Daddy doing to you this time?” and I told Kristen I was just giving him a bath. Kristen thought for a millisecond, reached into the tub and said, “Get him out of there. It's scorching hot. You're burning his poor little skin.” So, I took him out of the tub, and Kristen put in cold water, until she felt it was the right temperature and then we put Finn in and he didn't scream. From that point forward, Kristen always checked the water before I gave Finn a bath. 

           Then, there was the sixteenth of the month. You hated the sixteenth because you didn't understand. I'd force your mouth open, shove a pill down your throat while you moaned, and force you to swallow it. One time, Kristen woke up when I was doing it and asked what I was doing and said Finn didn't like it, so I explained it to her and she told Finn she was sorry, but this time Daddy was right. 

           And I kept telling you you're a therapy dog, not a guard dog, but you didn't understand. You're job is to be loving toward people and let them pet you, not to bark at them and protect us. On a different note (pardon the pun), I would play my guitar in my room and one time you and Kristen woke up and Kristen told you she understood. It wasn't that you minded me playing guitar, it was that I didn't know how to play the guitar well.  I'd learn later in my life. 

           And then there was the time we almost killed you. We felt horrible. See, we had just eaten ribs and you, being a dog, begged for the leftovers and we gave you the cooked bones, but then you became constipated. You were miserable. We took you to the dog ER, which Kristen paid for and we took you to your main vet who took x-rays and gave you laxatives. You wound up being okay, but both of us were praying for you, Finnegan, and were glad to have you back home. 

           But, as the years passed, you wound up having a lot of other problems, which weren't your fault. You got cataracts in your left eye. You had arthritis in all your legs. You kept having coughing fits and we kept having to open your mouth and take your tongue out of your mouth. The coughing fits kept getting closer and closer together and you weren't even doing well at work. So, we did what any good dog parents would do and we took you to the vet. We knew it might be a possibility that we'd have to put you to sleep, but weren't positive. 

           This was during COVID, so we, Kristen, me, my mom, and my dad, had to stay in the car while the vet examined you. They said you had an enlarged heart, arthritis, and cataracts.  We knew everything except the enlarged heart. The vet said she could put him to sleep, but there were multiple medications which could help Finnegan if we wanted. Finn hated taking pills, as I've shown, so we decided to have him put to sleep. 

           We got something with your ashes and a poem about a Rainbow Bridge. Kristen thinks you went to Heaven, but I know you're in the Spirit World looking at us and still loving us, her more than me, which is good. We both love and miss you and wish we were all together again. We love and miss you, Finn.

W/b

James

Dear James and Kristen,

Woof, woof, woof.

Love,

Finn.