A lot of people have been asking how CiCi is doing, and the truth is—she’s okay. I think. In some ways, she’s doing better than me right now. She’s always been strong, but losing Chooch has left a quiet emptiness in both of us.
In the beginning, CiCi didn’t understand. When Chooch didn’t come home, she wandered through every room of the house, sniffing corners, looking under blankets, searching for her best friend. It was heartbreaking to watch her circle the couch where they used to nap together or sit by the door as if waiting for him to walk back in. Her tail wagged less, her eyes looked confused, and at night, she would sleep closer to me, as if trying to find comfort in our shared grief.
What truly helped both of us during those early days was the care and compassion from the staff at VEG Vet. They were so gentle with Chooch, and even after he passed, they showed us nothing but love and empathy. They didn’t treat it like just another case—they understood it was losing family. I’ll always be grateful for how they handled everything, how they let me say goodbye properly, and how they made sure CiCi had a moment too.
Now, a few weeks later, CiCi doesn’t search anymore. She knows. You can see it in her eyes—there’s a quiet acceptance. Sometimes she still lies in the spots where Chooch used to sleep, like she’s holding space for him. And when I cry, she comes close, resting her head on my lap, as if to remind me that we’re still here… together.
She’s eating well again, wagging her tail when visitors come, even playing a little. She’s healing, day by day. And though there’s still a Chooch-shaped hole in our lives, CiCi reminds me that love doesn’t end when someone leaves. It lingers, in memories, in routines, and in the bond we shared.
We miss him so much. But CiCi is still here, and her quiet strength gives me the courage to keep going too.
