Why Dad Didn't Want Chico

Since I left you hanging as to why my Father wanted to get Chico a new home, and why he would take him to work hoping Chico would run off, or go home with another of the electricians, or other men working construction... Here is the rest of that story...

If you read my first entry, you may recall Chico was a little puppy brought from Mexico by a soldier whose parents were our neighbors in El Paso, Texas. Chico was a small dog, weighing only about ten to twelve pounds when he was fully grown.  He was a dead ringer for a German Shepherd, just in "toy size."

As my Dad told me, he once had a German Shepherd, that he loved. Someone killed that dog by giving it some steak or maybe is was hamburger meat. In any case they had laced it with ground glass. There was nothing any Veterinarian could do to save his much loved dog. It died an agonizing death, in horrific pain, bleeding out from inside.

Once my Dad lost this dog in such a horrible manner, he would never allow himself to become attached to another dog, much less another dog that reminded him of the one he lost in a way that never left his mind or heart. Ever.

Several years after moving from El Paso to Los Alamitos, California, we then moved to Buena Park. In August of 1958 we  moved  from Buena Park to Westminster, California. By then, I was thirteen years old. We still had the same three dogs we got while living in El Paso. Pal, Cuddles and Chico.

Daddy tried giving Chico away at least twice that I remember. Each time, Chico returned. Once after Dad gave Chico away, and after several days passed, while eating dinner, we  heard what sounded like a dog whispering a bark at the front door. Mom opened the front door. CHICO was back!

Mom let him in, fed him and made sure he had plenty of fresh cool water. He got lots of attention from everyone, and Dad just sat there laughing.

Poor little guy had obviously barked until he lost his voice. I guessed that they turned him loose, just to shut him up. They either could not stand the barking any longer, or felt bad for him, realizing how much he wanted to go home. We never found out if the people brought Chico home, or if he came on his own. But he was home and very happy to be back.

Daddy did not try giving him away again, but...

Two years later, Chico was still going to work with Dad every now and then. Daddy had accepted the fact that Chico would not accept the friendship of any of the other men at work, nor take to anyone else. He wouldn't even take a bite of anything they offered him. Chico still guarded Daddy's tools, too.  Some time later, a friend who lived in the city of Orange, about fifteen to twenty miles away, asked Daddy if she could use Chico to breed to her Pomeranian and Chihuahua mix. Why?  I have no clue. Most likely because she either had a friend that wanted a puppy from her little dog, or maybe she planned to sell the puppies.

After Chico was there for about a week, we got a call telling us that Chico had escaped somehow from their back yard.  Chico probably thought he had been given away again. He returned, no doubt to revisit his cute little lady love. Chico was "punished for leaving" in the first place. Well, since Chico was nobody's fool, he left again, and this time he did not return, cute Lady Love or not.

A month or more passed, and we heard nothing about Chico. We all figured he had most likely been killed in traffic, or killed by some larger dog.

Maybe two months later, Daddy was coming home from work, and saw "CHICO" following a woman and her children down the road.

Daddy stopped to make sure it was really Chico.  He told the lady the story of how we came to lose the little guy. The woman gave Daddy their address, so I could pick Chico up the next day. After all, I was now sixteen and had a driver's license.

Chico had managed to travel from the City of Orange to within about ten miles of home. It appeared that this little dog would travel as far as his energy would allow, and stop awhile to regain his strength.

Chico was heading home!

How he made it even that far without being hit by a car, or killed by a larger dog, no one knows. Even in 1960, there was a lot of traffic between Orange and Westminster.

We could hardly believe Daddy had finally decided that if Chico was that loyal, and determined to get back home, (a third time) and he was still in one piece, Chico was coming home, and would never be given up or even loaned out again in his life.

How loyal does a dog have to be to prove it's loyalty anyway?

The next morning, I drove to the west Santa Ana address that Daddy gave me to get Chico. When I reached the address Daddy had given me, I parked by the curb in front, got out and approached the front door and knocked. No one answered my knock, so I returned to my car, and just sat for awhile waiting to see if they may return. I was prepared to stay until they got home, no matter how long it took.

Meanwhile, I scanned the area looking for any sign of Chico.  After a while, I looked up and saw the little dog trotting down the street. Loose and happily wagging his tail.

I jumped from my car, and called, "CHICO, Chico, come here boy!" My heart nearly burst when he ran as fast as he could, and jumped all over me, licking my face.  He was just as happy to see me, as I was to see him.

After our mutual greeting, and after making sure he was all in one piece, I opened the door to my car, and Chico jumped in, and was just so happy to see someone he knew. His ordeal was over. We drove home, and he was properly greeted, and spoiled. No one ever again, even considered sending Chico away.

He lived to be twelve years old, when he contracted some kind of chronic kidney problem. The vet gave us some medication to help, but it always returned. Time after time, Mom and Dad had Chico to the Vet. Time and again, he was treated for the kidney problem. Chico was so ill, and suffering every time he had to urinate. Mom and Dad finally had to put Chico down to end his suffering.

That was some forty plus years ago. Chico is still missed. My sisters and I talk about him from time to time, still.

Next... "Pepper," Son of "Chico"