In Loving Memory of
Snookie
Born: Oct. 2009Passed: Aug. 2026
Her Forever Home:
Picture it: early 2010. It was raining outside a veterinary clinic near a busy street in Grundy Center, Iowa. For reasons I never got to know, a little pug, only about a year old, had been tied up outside and abandoned. Thankfully, she was rescued and placed into foster care. Later that year, in October, my mother and I began the adoption process. Nearly 20 people were interested in giving her a home, but this was no simple application. The process was surprisingly thorough, almost like adopting a child. There were questions about children in the home, requests for pictures of the house both inside and out, questions about previous pets and how they had been treated, and much more. Out of all those interested, we were the only ones who completed the entire process and were blessed to bring her home.
She was already about a year old, so we didn't have the kind of bond that begins with raising a puppy from the very beginning. Still, during those first few days, she followed my mom and me everywhere. Looking back, it almost felt as though she was asking,
“Is this person safe? Is this really my new home? Are you going to keep me?”
The answer, of course, was yes.
The next 13-plus years were filled with love and some of the warmest memories of my life. We went for walks, made trips to the dog park, and for many years, she slept in my bed with me. I eventually learned that she wasn't much of a snuggler, but she absolutely loved being around people. I still love to say that
'Se never met a stranger she didn't like.", or "She's a lover, not a fighter."
By the time she was 14 or 15, she began showing signs of early paralysis in her rear legs and started falling off the bed at night. For her safety, I had to end our bedtime routine. But I wasn't ready to simply accept that without trying everything my mother and I could for her. Our veterinarian recommended acupuncture, which was a new treatment option for certain ailments at the time. It wasn't cheap, but nothing was too good for our little girl. For a while, it seemed to help. Eventually, though, the paralysis became permanent. So I looked into and bought her a mobility cart. She took to it almost immediately. And life continued. She still had places to go, things to see, and people to meet.
During her final week, beginning around August 24, 2026, things changed quickly. She had already begun having difficulty with bowel movements, but now she was also unable to urinate without help. During what would become her last wellness examination, the veterinarian also noticed signs of mild Canine Cognitive Dysfunction Syndrome. I had seen what cognitive decline could do to a beloved dog before, and I knew I could not bear to watch my little girl slowly become a shell of herself. She deserved better than that, to have her dignity intact and to remain herself. By this point, she was approaching her 17th birthday. She would have turned 17 this coming October in 2026. She had already lived a long life, especially for a pug and, more importantly, a life filled with love. And my mom and I made sure her final days reflected that.
I spoiled her rotten, probably even more than usual. There were special meals, treats, naps, and even trips back to the dog park in her mobility cart, which she had not been able to visit in years. Her last day was only a half day, but I wanted it to be special. She had a breakfast of unseasoned scrambled eggs and brisket. Then we went for one more ride around town. During that ride, it started to rain. And off the top of my head, I found myself saying:
It is raining,For the Angels are weeping,
Not with sorrow,
But with joy,
For Snookie
Is crossing the Rainbow Bridge.
I don't know where those words came from. I only know that, at that moment, they felt exactly right. By the time our ride was over, I sensed that she was physically tired but peaceful. Something else had changed during those final days. For most of her life, she hadn't been much of a snuggler. But near the end, she began staying close for longer and longer. Some people might see nothing unusual in that, and that's okay. But I felt something different. I don't believe she was tired of life. Instead, I believe she was spiritually tired, not in a sad or hopeless way, but in the way someone might feel after a long and satisfying life. Almost as if she were saying:
The last photograph I have of her holds special meaning for me. She is wrapped in a Chicago Bears throw that she, well... borrowed—and never returned, looking directly up at me. After nearly 17 years together, I can't honestly say I know what she was thinking. But I sensed something in that moment.
To me, it felt as though she was telling her daddy that she loved him, that she was thankful for her forever home, and perhaps even asking if it was okay to go. Of course, I told her it was. Saying goodbye to a beloved pet is one of the hardest decisions a person can make. I had some prior education and training as a veterinary technician, so I understood the process of helping a pet pass peacefully. That knowledge did not make the decision any easier, but it provided comfort in knowing what was happening and, most importantly, that she was safe and would not experience fear or pain.
My little girl was peaceful.She was safe.
And she was surrounded by love.
When the veterinarian checked her initial breathing and heartbeat, only about 15 to 20 seconds had passed before the veterinarian quietly said, “She's gone.” For a nearly 17 year old pug weighing only about 13 pounds, it happened remarkably quickly. I will never know exactly what she was thinking or feeling in those final moments, but after everything we had been through together, I believe she was ready. Ready to rest. Ready to let go.
She may have entered my life as a little pug abandoned outside a veterinary clinic on a rainy day. But she left this world deeply loved, my little girl, my best friend, and, in my heart, my spiritual soulmate. She was cherished every single day of her forever home life, and she always will be.
**Epilogue**
An Unexpected Visit
I had completely forgotten that I was supposed to help babysit a couple of kittens during the first weekend of September 2026. For obvious reasons, I had a few other things on my mind. Then, during the early evening of August 30, less than two days after Snookie passed. The woman with the kittens called and told my mother and me that she would be dropping them off between 6:00 and 7:00 that very evening. I don’t put much faith in mere coincidences, and for this to happen exactly when it did, at a time when I probably needed it more than I realized... well, isn’t this just odd? Did she (Snookie) have something to do with this?
However, I can't help but find the timing somewhat suspicious. *clears throat* Perhaps someone else was involved. Maybe *The Great Holy Roller Himself* looked down and decided that I shouldn't spend that second difficult evening in a house that had suddenly become far too quiet. Or maybe it was simply an incredible coincidence. I can't say for sure. All I know is that, less than two days after saying goodbye to my little girl, two kittens unexpectedly showed up to keep me company. And the timing?
Well...
