We got Skeeter in May 1994, about a week after Spud, a Chi-mix we'd had for 17 years, crossed over to the Bridge. Spud may have been an awfully small dog, but her absence sure made a HUGE empty spot in our house. We had to put something in that empty spot, and that's why we got Skeeter. Of course, Skeeter (or any other dog) has never replaced Spud in our hearts, but they do make it easier to live without her.
 

Skeeter makes little "baby sounds" when we hold her close, especially in our arms, held against a chest so that she can stick her nose underneath an armpit (her most favorite spot, I believe). When she wants something, whether it's food, or to be picked up and put on the bed -- or just simply picked up -- she makes little tiny, quick, but quiet yelps. That "little" yelp will wake us up in an instant, no matter how soundly we're asleep.

I want to tell you about how we acquired Skeeter. It started with Chiquita. Chiquita was Sonny's dog.  He got her when she was about 10 weeks old in 1976.  She was not a Chihuahua, but a Schipperke.  She was a "daddy's girl" and Sonny's shadow.  When she was two years old she had her one litter of puppies (due to our negligence and the amorous perseverance of a "deer-type" Chihuahua).  We kept one of the puppies, a black and tan female we named Spud.  Spud became my shadow.  Spud was the first experience Sonny and I had ever had with owning a Chihuahua.  In January of 1992, Chiquita crossed the Bridge.  Sonny and I were devastated.  We both maintained that we had never felt such pain before, even when close family members had died.  It was a year before we could bring ourselves to mention her name, and even now, it still brings tears.

Less than a month after Chiquita died, I had a very vivid and emotional dream.  I told it to Sonny as soon as I could talk about it.  In the dream, my sister, Veneda, and I were walking down a street and were approaching a yard that had a flowerbed near the street, paralleling it.  Veneda shrieked while pointing toward the flowerbed, "Oh, look at the Easter kittens!"  I looked and saw several kittens frolicking in the flowerbed, pouncing on one another and the bushes and the flowers.  Each kitten had about three different colors, all "Easter colors," i.e., white, black, pastel blues, pinks, greens, orchids, and yellows.  Well, Veneda and I were both mesmerized by those cute little kittens, and while trying to get a closer look at them, followed some of them to a flower bed close to the front of the house.  While looking under some shrubs for some more kittens, we discovered a pile of small newborn puppies; all entwined together and sound asleep.  I pointed to one of the puppies and said excitedly, "Oh, look.  There's Chiquita!"  Veneda exclaimed, "It *is* Chiquita!"  The dream ended at that point and left a very strong feeling upon awakening that it had been extremely important.
 

Now my first impression of this dream was that a message was being given to me (by my own mind or something else) using symbolism.  In other words, the kittens and their Easter colors were symbols for the "idea" of resurrection, rebirth, or renewal of life.  And the rest of the dream signified that Chiquita's essence or spirit would be reborn someday as a new puppy.  In other words, I knew NOT to take the dream literally and go out hunting for some Easter-colored kittens!  During the two years we had only Spud after Chiquita's death we became quite enamored of the Chihuahua in her.  Sonny said he would like to get another dog for himself and had decided on getting a Chihuahua.  He hesitated on getting one while Spud was still with us because he was afraid it might make Spud jealous and unhappy in her elder years.  He wanted her to remain an "only child" and happy until she was gone.  Spud then went to the Bridge in April 1994.  Less than a week after her death we decided that we should get another Chihuahua as soon as possible before both of us went stark, raving mad.  We thought that (although nothing can ever replace Spud or the feelings we have for her) a puppy might take up part of the huge empty space she had left behind.  Besides, we figured that a young puppy with a lot of vim and vigor will be such a handful for the both of us that we won't have so much time to sit around and cry.

Since we take the San Angelo newspaper, I looked in their classifieds.  They had only one ad for Chihuahua puppies, so I called it.  The person who answered was a talker and I soon learned that she was eighty years old and a widow.  She must have talked for an hour while I listened long distance. I understood the woman to say that she had only two tan males that were ready to go and we definitely wanted a female.  She also said she had another mother soon to give birth, but most of what she was saying was going in one ear and out the other -- until she said some words that almost tumbled me out of my chair.  While trying to describe the puppies her dogs normally produce, she told me they were mainly "Easter colored."

That evening I told Sonny what the woman had said (and I thought later that telling him may have been a mistake).  He exclaimed, "That's it!  That's where we're supposed to get our puppy."  Although I was certainly awed by the whole thing, I didn't think we should just blindly rush headlong into something that important without considering other options.  I suggested that we go to San Angelo that very weekend to look at her stock of dogs and to look for other dogs.  Whatever we did, I really was anxious to get it over with as soon as possible.  For whatever reason we couldn't explain, we both felt compelled to go that weekend.

We went to San Angelo, which is about 200 miles from where we live.  I felt as if we were being pushed toward the widow's dogs by some*one* or some*thing*.  Immediately upon arrival, I got a classified from another paper.  There were two ads in it for Chihuahuas, so I decided to check these out first before calling the widow since I did not particularly like the feeling of being ramrodded into only one direction.  I called the first one and there was no answer.  I called the second one and got an answering machine which said, "I am not available to come to the phone right now, but you know *what* you gotta do!"  Then that message was abruptly replaced with a dial tone.

We then went to the mall to eat supper at Luby's Cafeteria.  I had decided that, after supper, we would check out the pet store in the mall (I don't ordinarily shop at a pet store for live animals since I don't want to help support any puppy mills, but was by then quite desperate to look at all options).  After dinner we discovered that the mall had closed during our meal.  At that point, I threw my hands into the air and gave up.  I told Sonny we might as well call the widow and go look at her dogs.  Even though she didn't have any weaned females (or so I thought), we could at least get an idea what her dogs are like.

She first showed us the two tan males.  They were about the size of newborn mice!  Hmmmm, these are obviously not the puppies she said were ready to leave.  She took us into her den or family room where we saw two other puppies considerably larger, 8 weeks old to be exact.  They were tri- colored, fawn and black on white.  The woman picked up one and handed it to Sonny to hold and said, "This one is the female."  Well, I knew we were hooked when I saw the ecstatic look on Sonny's face as the puppy crawled up his chest, and while hanging onto his neck, licked and bit him on the chin.

Well, to make a long story longer, Sonny is now totally convinced that this puppy is "Chiquita reincarnated."  Sonny cites several reasons for this in addition to the Easter colors thing:  The puppy never whined for her former home after we took her.  She ran up to Fifteen, our elderly Siamese cat, bouncing and hopping, as though she had found a long, lost friend, and she did not react the same to Tom Cat (who Chiquita never knew).  She attacks our toes (or the toes of our shoes) with a furious growling the same as Chiquita once did.  When looking for security or protection, she prefers to be entwined around Sonny's neck, again as Chiquita once did.  When she's in a recliner, with either Sonny or me, she lays down on the cushion on the left hand side, facing the front of the chair exactly as Chiquita always did.

I think these traits and behaviors can be, and are, passed down to all puppies through physical "doggie" genes and that a lot of significance probably shouldn't be attributed to them.  But what about the "Easter colors"?  Could that have possibly been a mere coincidence?  I guess anything's possible, so I suppose it's possible the woman describing her puppies as Easter colored was only a coincidence -- but I believe it's not probable.

For one thing, who in his right mind would describe any puppies as "Easter colored"?  No puppies are Easter colored (unless someone dyed them) and this woman's puppies, although very pretty, are definitely not Easter colored.  What is the likelihood of my first having the dream that made such a big impression on both Sonny and me, and then when it came time to actually get another dog, the first person that we called mentions that her dogs are "Easter colored"?

When we went to San Angelo, we had intended to stay the entire weekend, but packed up and left for home the next morning since we had already accomplished everything we had gone there to do.  So on the trip home, while I was mulling over in my mind the recent events, a strange thought struck me.  I thought of the many incidents that I've heard about and seen of dogs or cats traveling long distances, sometimes hundreds of miles, to be reunited with a beloved human companion.  No one on this earth has ever been able to explain how these dogs and cats do that, especially since some could not have possibly known which direction they should go.

Then I thought, if this "Easter colors" thing is something more than mere coincidence, it would mean that two humans, not having any means of knowing which direction to take, traveled hundreds of miles, straight as an arrow with no detours, to be reunited with a beloved dog companion.

At any rate, we now have a Chihuahua that Sonny named Skeeter because "she's about as big as a mosquito."  Of course, Sonny has shortened that name already to "Skeeta" which was his favorite nickname for Chiquita.