Happy birthday to the cutest little devil I know.
12 years ago today, a litter of 3 entered this world. Two girls and one boy. The owners of the mother instantly went to setting up the sale of the puppies, as they were not planned at all. While they looked around for homes who would take the puppies when they were old enough, my grandma was looking for puppies who would fill the gap in my little heart after the death of my previous dog.
My previous dog, Hannah, was nothing short of a hero. She saved my life when I was a toddler by holding me by my pants when I almost fell through the railing of the stairs at my house. She saved the life of an elderly woman who was depressed in a home, just by running away from our house on the perfect day. She took care of my sister and I when our parents fought and she cuddled us when my dad left. Hannah was a fighter up until the end, even, when her liver imploded for no known reason. She died within 24 hours but didn’t show any symptoms around my sister and I. We left to go on a trip and after we drove off, Hannah started spitting up blood. My mom says it’s because she would never want us to see her like that, but I think it’s more she would never want to see us sad. Hannah died later that night in my mom’s arms and since her passing, I was wanting another Hannah. I wanted another hero. Another fighter. Another angel.
My grandma found a litter with 3 puppies and one of them had been abandoned by the mother. The puppy watched as her siblings got loved and fed, but she got a warm towel and formula. She never got to get close to her mother since her mom had tried many times to kill her. She was frail and near death, and frankly the owners just couldn’t do it anymore. It’s a lot of work raising a newborn puppy. My grandma chose her because although the world kicked her down, she kept going.
That Christmas I got to meet her, when she was big enough to be held by a child (since children are not at all gentle). She was just so tiny…
We named her Precious, “Pressure” for short. Later on she got a tumor on her trachea that made her snort when she ran. This led to the name Piggy.
Piggy was a fighter from the beginning and after beating death 3 times, we believe she’s gonna be here for a long time. She’s stubborn and angry, like most elderly women, but she may just be the cutest little devil I have ever had the pleasure to meet. Happy birthday, Piggy. Here’s to the longest living Miniature Schnauzer in my family ❤️ may you growl in the window at birds for the rest of your life ❤️