The mornings still feel a little emptier without King Chooch at my side. I used to wake up, pour my coffee, and have those quiet, silly “talks” with him—me rambling about the day ahead, him tilting his head with that wise, knowing look like he understood every word. He had a way of making the world feel softer, like all the chaos outside didn’t matter as long as we were together.
These days, it’s CiCi who keeps me company. And while she’s not Chooch, she’s doing a remarkable job holding things down. She’s got her own magic—different, but just as healing. When I feel the sadness creeping in, CiCi somehow knows. She’ll curl up next to me, her warm little body pressed against mine, breathing in sync, grounding me back in the present.
People often ask, “Who saved who?” And I honestly can’t answer anymore. Sure, I took CiCi in when she needed a home. She was timid, unsure, and still learning that the world could be kind. But in so many ways, she rescued me too—especially now. She fills the spaces Chooch left behind, not replacing him, but adding her own love to the home we built together.
Some days, I still talk out loud like I did with Chooch. CiCi listens too—ears perked, eyes watching, maybe understanding, maybe just enjoying the sound of my voice. It’s a comfort I didn’t expect, a quiet reminder that love changes form but never truly disappears.
Chooch taught me patience, unconditional love, and the joy of living in the moment. CiCi is teaching me resilience, adaptability, and the beauty of opening your heart again after loss.
So maybe the real answer to “Who saved who?” is… we saved each other. Twice.
And I think somewhere, King Chooch is looking down, nodding in approval, knowing I’m in good paws.
