There’s not a single day that passes without a moment that brings Chooch back to my mind. Sometimes it’s the quiet jingling of a collar, other times it’s the way the sunlight hits a certain spot on the floor where he used to nap. But lately, it’s been CiCi—his little sister—who reminds me the most of him.
CiCi has started doing the exact things Chooch used to do. At first, it caught me off guard. I’d hear the sound of paws shuffling under the kitchen table at dinnertime and instinctively think, “Chooch?” But no—it was CiCi, lying in the exact same spot he used to claim as his own. She even tilts her head the same way he did when she’s curious or wants a treat.
It’s as if Chooch left a little bit of his spirit behind to guide her.
She follows the trail he laid down without ever being taught. She picks up his habits naturally—waiting by the door at sunset, hopping onto the couch in that one particular spot, even letting out little sighs the way he did when she settles in for a nap. Watching her makes me smile, but it also tugs at something deep in my chest. It’s a sweet ache, the kind that comes with love and loss all tangled together.
There are no rewinds in life, and if there were, I’d go back and hug Chooch one more time, take him for one more walk, let him steal the covers just once more. But instead, I’m left with flashbacks—beautiful ones—and a little sister pup who unknowingly keeps her big brother’s memory alive in the most heartwarming ways.
CiCi is growing into her own, but Chooch will always be her compass. And mine.
