Mica (Nee circa 1989-October 11, 2007)

One of my best girlfriends died today. She was 18. I found her at the Humane Society in 1990, and I think she was about one year old. She had been rescued while roaming the mountains east of Albuquerque, New Mexico. I think she must have been hungry when they found her, because I have never known a dog who would eat anything... well, almost anything. She used to leave the sprig of parsley on her plate.

Right after I got Mica, she developed a cough. I was worried that she was going to die and I remember asking the vet to be straight with me. I didn't want to get attached to her if she was just going to up and die right away. It turned out to be kennel cough and she recovered quickly. It was love at first sight anyway, so I had already become attached.

A couple of months later, she and I drove to Arizona and then back to Albuquerque via Bisbee and then Silver City, New Mexico. I had my new Jeep Wrangler at the time, and she used to sleep in the front seat with her head on my lap while I drove. While we drove through Silver City, I thought I was going to lose her. She was suffering from some sort of convulsive/shaking problem. As I debated on whether to find a vet to check her out, it dawned on me that she was terror stricken by the sleeting, thundering, miserable weather we were driving through. That was the first of many times she would have the same reaction. Doggie valium would have been beneficial.

Mica saw me through three hospital admissions. She actually got to visit me when I was in Charter Hospital for the depression, etc. She also kept me company after my hysterectomy, and I was lucky to have Rich Abitz, a friend from work, come by and take Mica and Buggy for a run in the foothills. I was soon on my feet from the operation, and I'm sure the twice daily dog walks hastened my recovery.

I used to go camping with Mica and Buggy (blue heeler), and I was always convinced that if I ran into trouble, that Mica would fight off anyone or thing who had evil intentions. Fortunately, I never had to find out.

In November, 2004, Tim and I decided to move to Australia. Moving to Australia with dogs is no easy task, and it became clear that Mica would not be able to travel due to her age. My friends, Robyn and Tom, offered to take her, while we would bring Sammy and Karma with us to our new home. The grief of leaving Mica behind was overwhelming. I felt such pain for months, that when we finally had to say goodbye to her, it wasn't terrible. She knew what was happening and settled herself on Robyn and Tom's porch. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect home for her.

Since the last time I saw her, the only real trauma came when she was lost for 1-2 days. She had walked 25 miles north along the highway and was rescued by a good-hearted trucker and some wonderful people from Sevilleta National Wildlife Refuge. Robyn didn't tell me about the event until she was safely at home (bless her heart). A part of me was sure she was trying to find her way home (to our old house along her route), and the guilt I felt was miserable. She was an Iditarod Dog champion at heart and body (or would have been if she had been born in Alaska and not New Mexico), so for an old girl, 25 miles was a walk in the park. (Not really. Robyn said she was thirsty and exhausted when they found her.) Many of the dogs in the Iditarod look like Mica, just look here.

I lost a best friend, and I know it will be worse for Robyn and Tom, because they will keep feeling her around their house for awhile. I'm blessed to have had Mica as my friend and companion, and blessed to have Robyn and Tom be the wonderful and generous friends (and adoptive doggie parents) they are.