Today, we say goodbye to an old and faithful friend. Michou, who was my parents’ dog, passed away on Monday. She was a sweet and gentle cockapoo, who quietly took a huge place in our lives, and we weren’t even aware of her most of the time.
How can I describe her? At first, her name was Bichou, but my father couldn’t get himself to say it, so he called her Michou instead. We all followed suit. She was ball crazy, yet would roll it down the basement stairs when she was tired of playing with it. She would introduce herself to guests by sitting pretty. She was in love with all of my nephews and nieces, and in one case showed it by stealing socks when one of them would come for a visit. Then, we would find her sleeping with said sock. The first time we heard her growl, was when she met Jasmine yet, she quickly accepted her.
She wasn’t a sports dog, and her one trick was to sit pretty. Even so, she had taught herself that. She arrived in my mother’s life when she was undergoing chemo treatments for her cancer. My mother once said to me that she didn’t have time think about her cancer, because she had to take care of Michou, who was a puppy then.
She was part of many birthday parties, smarty cakes, Christmas “réveillons” and Easter dinners by sitting patiently beside one of us for food. She lived in a seniors’ household, yet loved kids, and was very gentle with them. She was witness to our joys, to our sorrows, to our goodbyes, and to our beginnings.
She left us as she lived, very quietly. She was old, and her heart simply gave out. Lying on the floor, her breathing suddenly couldn’t be heard anymore. She was gone.
Michou, your quiet presence helped my parents go through what was probably the most difficult time of their lives, losing their son. You’ve earned your rest. Sleep well. You will be missed…
These pictures are snapshots of the actual photos.
My father his hands full of dogs. (Jasmine and Michou)