She won the battle, but the war is far from over 😂. I miss my races with Chooch up to the bedroom. 🐾💨

Every night used to end with the same routine—a playful glance, a wiggle of the tail, and then a blur of fur flying up the stairs. Chooch and I had an unspoken challenge: who could reach the bedroom first. It was silly, sweet, and competitive in the best way. And no matter how fast I thought I was, Chooch always had that secret burst of speed right at the end. He lived for the thrill of that last-second victory.

But now, there’s a new runner on the track—CiCi. She’s spunky, determined, and full of mischief. Last night, as I walked toward the stairs, she gave me that same playful glance Chooch used to give, and in a flash, she was off. I had no choice but to chase her, laughing the whole way. She tripped halfway up, then quickly scrambled back, squealing as she reached the top just ahead of me.

“She won the battle,” I thought, trying to catch my breath, “but the war is far from over.”

As CiCi celebrated her win, spinning in tiny circles and wagging her tail, I couldn’t help but feel Chooch’s spirit in that moment. It wasn’t just a race—it was a torch being passed. She’s picked up where he left off, in her own goofy, wonderful way.

Still, nothing quite matches those original Chooch races. The way he would slow down just enough to let me think I had a chance, only to zoom past me with that signature victory bark at the top. I miss that. I miss him.

But I also know he’d be proud. Proud of CiCi for carrying on the tradition. Proud of me for still laughing. And somewhere, maybe he’s racing us both in spirit—just waiting at the top, wagging his tail like he always did.

The races may be different now, but the love? That hasn’t changed one bit. 🐶💖