Taco: My Treasured and Faithful Friend
In October 2007, we were staying on the Costa del Sol, Spain, and drifted into the large Shopping Centre, La Cañada in Marbella. After a sturdy lunch of Nachos, we returned to our car in the underground parking and peeped into the pet shop in the corner of the area. We had often been in there, mostly to commiserate with the poor canines, imprisoned in small cages, and standing on strips of newspaper. On this particular day, there was only one seven-week- old Maltese, with all the animation of a sloth. That’s, until he spotted us, whereupon he burst into a fluffy ball of unrestrained agility, about to detonate. I swiftly negotiated visiting rights with the salesgirl, who seemed strikingly indifferent to us, the dog and anything at all. I took the little fellow in my arms and instinct warned me that I had sealed his fate. When I edged back towards his cage, he clutched me desperately, as if to plead, not to send him back to prison. I looked down into his little face, and instinctively took out my purse to clinch the deal. Despite all my enduring aversion to supporting this form of animal commerce, I fell in love with this enchanting little chap, and knew this was the advent of a profound love affair.
Having fostered the tradition of naming dogs after edibles, I couldn’t reasonably call him ‘Nachos’ after the meal we had just eaten. Thus, an impulsive christening was performed, and ‘Taco’ became the new man in my life. Once at home our resident dogs, ‘Biscuit’ and ‘Scampi’ received their new companion with diluted glee. Once they were assured that ‘Taco’ was no threat to their food, their beds or their toys, peace reigned supreme and I could bond with my little fellow. Once he had been potty-trained and weaned onto normal food, he developed into the nimblest little acrobat with a partiality for the unexpected. He was a simple joy and provided an incomparable distraction for me, when we had to put our little Scampi to sleep, at only 3 years of age. She had a genetic brain disorder, attributed to over-breeding by her Swiss breeder – pure and heartless greed.
Our little Taco was a dog in a million. He followed me everywhere even to the toilet. I look back on those precious years with bitter regret, that I had to work so hard and had limited free time to spend with him. My partner walked him and made sure that he was well taken care of, and I cooked for him every day, but I missed the special time with him. He went to puppy school, but otherwise, he never really mastered the art of playing ball or hugging soft toys.
For the last eight years, I have been privileged to be at home with him and I treasured every minute, until 14. July this year. This was when I reluctantly had to accept that the time had come to let him float away to doggy-heaven, at nearly 15 years old. A house-vet came past and we were able to put him gently to sleep in my arms. She explained that his eyes remained open because the eyes are the window to the soul, and his soul was transcending to his peaceful home. With soft music and candles, I gave him one last, heart-wrenching kiss and let him rest in peace. An immense sadness has overcome me, but in my heart, I couldn’t cling onto him any longer. Having been adopted myself, I had always vowed to give him the very best, till death us do part. The deep void he has left behind is a vacuum that will never be filled again. but I am comforted in the knowledge, that he had the best life any little dog could have.
We have created a shrine to him in the center of our lives, not because we might forget him, but to let him know in his little corner of heaven, that he is still at home with us. His ashes are harboured in a small white pyramid, surrounded by photos, an angel, a candle and flowers. Instead of tears, we have a feeling of having done everything right by him, and it makes us feel peaceful.
Rest in Peace Taco – you are greatly missed!
Photo: Stefan Wälti