A Quote Che Would Have Loved!

"What's the difference between a Pit Bull and a Hockey Mom? You can feed a pit-bull for 483 years with 150 grand." - Mike Murphy, former McCain Campaign Strategist and apparently former McCain friend

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Che - "My Lil Monsta" - 2005-2008

From the debut post of my blog, my beloved dog Che has always been an important part of Aunt Jemima's Revenge. He has been featured prominently in several blog posts, even maintaining his own talking points section and dog space page. During the majority of the posts written for this blog, Che was either curled at my feet, wolfing down a snack, or laying his big head on my lap and looking up at me with those brown eyes seeming to say, "you finished doing that, I want to play now." It never mattered if I was finished or not when he did that, I couldn't resist playing with him right then and there.

I first got Che when he was 9 weeks old. We clicked as a pair instantly. He was only 18 pounds of mischief then. I was so fearful to let him out of my sight that first night, that he slept on my chest, snoring much too loudly for such a little bitty thing. He would grow to become a very independent, protective, inquisitive, and sensitive 68 pound lil' monsta that could devour Popeye's biscuits with quickness and sound like he was inhaling an entire waterfall when drinking from his water bowl. Folks would remark how big Che was and I never, ever, saw him that way. He was always my baby, my big boy.

On Sunday, September 28, Che died. His young body let him down with an illness no one could fix, not even his owner, who so desperately wanted to do so. He never once complained, whined, or cried. His last days were spent hanging with me, with him diligently trying to do all the things we had always done together. He was a brave and tough dog. To turn the phrase, he wasn't "man's best friend", but this woman's best friend. Over the last two years, my life has at times been extremely difficult and Che was all to often the only consistent and comforting part of my life.

I'd be a liar if I said I am not crushed about Che's death. I know that some people don't understand a pet owner's love for their animal and their sadness over their pet's death. I really don't give a damn. I loved Che and he loved me. And that's all that matters. I am angry abut Che's death as well, I feel something has been unfairly taken from me. I am grown enough to know that life isn't always fair, but that doesn't make me feel better. Many folks around me, my family, my friends, my blogging buddies, my colleagues, and my students have been extremely supportive during this difficult time and I really appreciate that.

As the days pass on, I will come to terms with my Che being gone. I will remember how he yelped when Barack Obama came on TV and how he growled when Hillary Clinton was on. Every once and while, I will watch an episode of Scooby Doo or Courage the Cowardly Dog, remember how intently he would watch those shows. I will never eat a Popeye's biscuit without thinking of him. And the wind chimes that are beginning to tinkle on my patio because the fall wind is rising, will always remind me of the bundle of tags that hung from Che's neck and how much I enjoyed hearing them jangle together when I came home from work, my dog coming to greet me.

I will laugh thinking about we fought over going outside to do his "business" when it was raining or snowing, Che hated both. I won't forget him clubbing upside the head the drunk man that accosted us on the street and insisted on trying to put Che in a headlock. I will always crack up at Che refusing to sit down in the car until one day I came to a sudden stop and he banged on the dashboard, turning off the cd player and the air conditioning all at the same time. He sat his big ass down in the car after that. And when it gets cold, I will remember how he would curl up in a tight ball and look up at me as if to say, "stop being cheap and turn the heat on!"

And as much as it hurts me right as this moment, I will remember with all of God's blessings that Che left my world the same way he came into it that very first day, being held closely in my arms. I would not have had it any other way.

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